


A13

by PaganArrows



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Experiments, Gay Male Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mates, Monster - Freeform, OMC - Freeform, Original Male Character - Freeform, Slight Alternate Universe, The Glade, The Maze - Freeform, lycanthrope, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 53,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaganArrows/pseuds/PaganArrows
Summary: A Newt x OMC story.Sold to WICKED at a young age, Breckin never knew what it felt like to be loved or needed. He grew up as an experiment, a monster. It was all he knew.Until he met him.This is a Maze Runner fanfiction. I do not own the trilogy, only Breckin.Read and enjoy.
Relationships: Newt (Maze Runner)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 72





	1. Prologue

The boy stared at the strange men. They wore strange dark clothing and thick padding on their arms and legs. Some were holding guns - he knew what they were because his mother's friend always had one - with the ends pointing to the ugly yellowing carpet. The boy tilted his head a bit to the side in confusion. 

Why were they here?

Was his mother in trouble again?

This was not the first time men like these ones came to their run-down house. Two months before a small group of them had come. They had made the boy nervous as they had been watching his every move. But the boy did not run away from them, even if they did look scary. Instead, he glared at them. 

One of the men stared down at him, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. "What's your name, young man?"

The boy narrowed his eyes further. He knew not to give his name out to strangers. That was something one of his mother's friends taught him a while ago. 

"Is it Breckin?"

Again, the boy did not say anything. 

The man turned to one of the others. "Not much of a talker, is he?" Then he returned his blocked gaze to the boy, Breckin. "Do you know why we are here?"

Breckin thought for a moment. There was no clear reason why these men were in his home. They were not any of his mother's friends, and they were not dropping off any weird white circles or clear tubes with sharp points at one end. He shook his head. 

"Does your mother talk about something called Flare?"

"No."

"Oh, so you do talk." The man seemed happy. "You are a very lucky young man, Breckin. Do you know why?"

Breckin shook his head again. 

Before the man could speak, his mother came walking out of the kitchen. She caressed Breckin's hair as she passed him; Breckin tried to flinch away, unused to her being this awake. "Is everything okay?" she asked, coming to stand in front of the group of men. "Is it done?"

The man who spoke to Breckin nodded, mouth turning down in a frown. "Yes, ma'am." He reached into his pocket. Breckin watched as the man pulled out a stack of green papers. Money. Why was the man giving his mother money? "All accounted for."

His mother snatched the bills from the man and quickly leafed through them. When she reached the end, she nodded, a smile forming on her sunken face. "Brilliant! Now, take what you need and leave." She motioned to the door with a wave of her hand. Small marks littered the inside of her elbow. 

Breckin let out a gasp as the sleeve of his too-large sweater was grabbed. He dug the heels of his dusty shoes into the old carpet, grunting with effort. The man who had a hold of him gave another harsh tug. Breckin's body flew through space, and he landed on his knees with a cry. 

"Mom!" he cried as thick tears welled up and ran down his face. "No! Mom! Don't let them take me!" He struggled against the hard grip on his sweater. "Mom! Mommy! Help!" He looked around frantically for her; then he saw her standing with her back to the group, to him. "Mom!" A sharp cry of pain came from him as he was dragged to his feet. He hiccuped loudly, pleading for his mother to look at him. To save him. But she was walking away, back to the kitchen. "Mommy!"

A sharp yank cut off another scream for his mother. The man holding him leaned down until his face hovered in front of his. "Your mother does not want you anymore," he said with no emotion. "Now, stop struggling and come with us."

Breckin shook his head until he saw stars. He tried to pull himself out of the strong grip but failed. Still crying for his mother, he was dragged out of the house. The scorched yard flashed past him as the man hurried him to a large dark-colored van. When the sliding door was opened enough, the man picked up Breckin and set him on the seat. Breckin fought when another man buckled him in. 

The rest of the group took the remaining seats, and the van roared to life. 

Breckin stared out the window at his home. The front door was shut. He waited impatiently for his mother to come running out the front door, screaming for the men to return him. He watched the house leave his sight as the van started to move. Still, his mother did not appear. Breckin choked loudly on a sob. His mother was not coming to save him. 

She really did not want him.

Sobs shook his body. He curled up into a ball, feet on the seat, head on his knobbly knees. A hand patted his shoulder, but Breckin flinched away. He did not want comfort, especially not from these men. 

He wanted his mother.


	2. A13

"Again!"

Breckin fought back a snarl. The smell of blood filled the air; he knew it was his. He had been struggling against the metal restraints around his wrists and ankles, and they finally broke the skin. 

A man with a balding head of black hair and hard icy eyes stood above him. In his gloved hand was a syringe filled with grey liquid. Breckin knew who the man was: Dr. Oliver Reed. He was a sadistic bastard. There was an unnaturally wicked smile on his wrinkled face as he waved the syringe in the air. Breckin raised his head a bit off the hospital bed to snap his teeth at him. Dr. Reed gave a laugh that would have sent chills down Breckin's spine if he had not been hearing it for the past nine years. Breckin spat at the doctor.

"Such a wild thing," the doctor commented.

Breckin rolled his eyes. The prick called him the same thing almost every day. 

"Now, now. No attitude from you today." Reed rested his other gloved hand on Breckin's shoulder, thumb digging into the soft flesh above his collarbone. Breckin growled at the small flash of pain it produced. 

"I'm going to kill you," Breckin muttered. "One of these fucking days, I'm going to kill you."

"You can try." 

The sharp needle was inserted into his upper arm. A hot tingling sensation burned down his arm and bled into his torso. His heartbeat increased, until it was pounding loudly in his ears. Suddenly, Breckin felt his muscles painfully lock up, then the shakes started. Tremor after tremor shook his body. The locked wheels of the hospital bed clanged loudly against the floor as it was rocked by his quaking. His breath sped up, as if his lungs were trying to match his racing heartbeat. 

"Very good." 

Breckin forced his eyes to focus on the doctor. After what felt like hours, the shaking started to subside. The burning was still there in his veins, but at least his body did not feel like it was caught in an earthquake. He panted heavily.

Reed pulled a cassette recorder from an inner pocket of his lab coat. He pressed a button and began speaking. "A13, test successful. The test subject is still alive." The doctor pressed the tips of his index and middle finger to the side of Breckin's throat; if he had not been weakened by the serum, he definitely would have bitten him. "Pulse is one hundred-fifteen beat per minute. The same results as the last three tests, therefore shall be used as a baseline." Reed moved down Breckin's body, poking and prodding him. "No changes overall to A13's muscle structure. Protein intake will be increased. Serum has weakened the reflexes," Dr. Reed added after he struck Breckin right below his right kneecap. Breckin did not have the strength to move. "A13 will be moved to the next portion of the test. With luck, we will have tapped into his genetic material with the serum." He pressed another button then returned the recorder to his pocket. "A13, you have made progress. Much progress."

Breckin narrowed his eyes at the doctor and summoned enough strength to mutter, "My name's Breckin."

The doctor stared at him for a moment. Then he smiled. "For now." He looked up and nodded to someone Breckin could not see. "Take him to the arena."

A woman, younger than Dr. Reed, with bright blonde hair and green eyes hurried over. A clipboard and pencil were held at the ready. "Are you sure, Doctor? A13 seems to be needing rest. You have injected him with that serum three times already today - "

"Yes," Dr. Reed interrupted. "And I believe the serum will activate this time. We modified it so it will actively mold with his genetic material. He will become something greater than we ever expected." He glanced at the fancy-looking watch on his wrist. "The date and time is right"

"And if the test does not go well, sir?"

"Then we will scrape whatever is left of him off the floor and try again."

The woman gasped quietly, but quickly concealed it with a cough. "Alright, Doctor." She set the pen and clipboard down on the hospital bed next to Breckin's side. Breckin heard her deactivating the brakes of the bed. 

"He should recover on the way down," Dr. Reed said, looking down at Breckin. "Be careful, Joyce; he bites." He belted a hearty laugh then left Breckin's line of vision. 

The woman, Joyce, grabbed the metal handles at the head of the bed. "Alright, let's go, A13." 

"Breckin."

Joyce shot him an apologetic look before she started to wheel him out of the lab. Breckin stared at the white ceiling and florescent lights as she rolled him down hallways and through door. He waited for the woman to comment about the experiments Dr. Reed had done to him that she was forced to watch. But she marched in silence, until they reached the quiet of an elevator. "Can you feel your fingers, A13?"

Breckin rolled his eyes. A13. An annoyance in his life. It was a label given to him a few years ago when Dr. Reed started to experiment on him. It had not taken him long to realize that he was the thirteenth person to undergo the experiment, and the only one who survived. He had seen the pictures on the computer screens, red X's crossing over the face of the young boys. They had all been given the serum, and perished when their bodies could not handle the pain. At least one of them had been driven to insanity. 

"Yes," he grumbled. "And I can feel my toes. One, two, three, four, five. Five, four, three, two, one. I smell antiseptic cleaning crap, and your perfume. I'd go with roses or something next time," Breckin added. "The smell of cucumber and melon does not fit your person. I can hear my heart, our breathing, and the dings of the elevator." He heaved an exaggerated sigh before continuing. "I see just fine. I love the color of your hair. It's very lovely. I taste blood. May have bit my tongue again. I don't care what year it is. Or the month. No one tells me shit anymore."

"Maybe that's because of your colorful language?"

"Possi-fucking-bly." Breckin tilted his head a bit to look up at the woman. "So, sunshine, your name is Joyce?"

"Yes."

"You're new here."

"I managed to be employed one year ago." Joyce glanced down at him. "I was working in another area and was promoted."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Now you get to stab innocent teens with a large needle filled with DNA-changing shit. Sounds fun. Maybe I'll be promoted as well, then I can stab teenagers with a needle."

Joyce frowned at him. "It's much more than that."

"I bet." Breckin returned her frown. "Any other altered teenagers you're working with?"

"You are the last one to receive the serum. My superiors, including Dr. Reed, believe the serum was too dangerous to keep administering it to adolescents."

"Fun."

The elevator dinged again then the doors slowly slid open. Joyce tightened her face into a determined frown. 

"Don't do that, sunshine. You'll get wrinkles."

"My name is Joyce. Not sunshine." The compassion she had shown in the elevator was gone.

"My name is Breckin. Not A13," Breckin mocked her. His bed was jostled abruptly, and Breckin bit his tongue. "Thucking bith."

Joyce ignored him and pushed him over yet another threshold. She stopped the bed then reached over his head to press a shiny red button on the wall. Breckin lifted his head enough to see a set of heavy metal doors opening at the foot of the bed. He was pushed into the large room. 

The arena.

It was a wide room, probably the size of the cafeteria, square in shape. All the walls were made of metal. A broad stripe of windows reflected the bright lights that hung from the ceiling. The floor was made of rough packed dirt. On the opposite side of the room was a set of door a bit wider and taller than the ones he was just pushed through. Breckin glared at the doors, wondering what was waiting behind them. 

Breckin was pushed towards the nearest wall. 

A voice boomed from the speakers in the ceiling. "Release A13 from his restraints!"

Joyce made quick work of unlocking the metal shackles around Breckin's wrists and ankles, then backed away quickly through the doors. Breckin growled after her. 

"A13!"

Breckin snapped his head to a section of the window band. There, he knew, were the scientists that were going to study his every movement for the next however long they kept him here. 

"Please make your way to the middle of the room!"

Narrowing his eyes to slits, Breckin stood still, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"Be cooperative!"

Breckin uncurled his arms just enough to raise his middle finger to the scientists.

"One more time: go to the middle of the room!"

"Fuck off."

"Very well. Commence with Stage One."

The bright lights were suddenly shut down, leaving the room in completely darkness. Breckin growled, instinct making him crouch a bit, hands curled into fists. He would not put it past the scientists to not attack him in the dark. There was a low buzzing then red light slowly overtook the darkness. 

"Commence with Stage Two."

A rumbling sound filled the air. Then a strip light appeared on the ceiling. Breckin watched as the strip grew wider in size, filling with a deep black-blue banner and white specks. After a moment Breckin realized he was staring at the night sky. The white speckles were stars. He stared, mesmerized. It had been years since he had seen the night sky, having been stuck in this facility for so long. Both sides of the ceiling ground to a halt.

"A13! The next experiment will start in one minute!"

Why a minute? Why not now?

Breckin turned his head in the direction of the speaker, and voiced his questions. He was ignored. His legs muscles quivered with anticipation. 

"Stage Three will commence in three, two, one."

The bigger set of double doors slowly started to part. Breckin's eyes widened at the sound of gears whirling and metal parts clinking together, create a bizarre scuttling sound. There was only one thing in the world that sounded like that. 

"Are you fucking serious?!" he shouted. 

The scuttling grew more frenzied, then the large mechanical-biological hybrid rushed over the threshold. The starlight reflected off its large bulbous body and shiny mechanical tail. 

A sliver of light appeared at the edge of the roof as the Griever leaped into the air. Breckin felt a surge of energy sweep through his body. His heart pulsed loudly in his ears, overpowering the screech of hunger and rage from the arachnid-machine. The light grew brighter, but Breckin faded into darkness.

When he awoke, he felt like his entire body was nothing but a big bruise. A chill settled over his body, and it took Breckin a moment to figure out his hospital pants were gone. He groaned and opened his eyes. He was lying face-down on the dirt floor. His right arm was in view. It was covered in cuts that were still bleeding and slimy mud. Next to his hand lie a piece of metal with a glob of gooey blood on it. A bizarre stench seemed to have surrounded him for that was all he could smell. 

"A13!"

With a groan, he slowly flipped his middle finger into the air. 

"He's still alive!"

"Congratulations, Doctor!"

"It was a success!"

Voices showered down on his from the speakers, making his ears ring. Breckin groaned again and tried to push his upper body off the ground. He fell back to the earth with a thump and a hiss. The second time was just as bad, but the third time he managed to get up enough to twist his body to sit. He crossed his legs to at least preserve some dignity; not that it mattered since the scientists have seen him naked many times before. He rested his hands on the ground and leaned over, breathing deeply.

"You did well, A13!"

Breckin sighed quietly, exhaustion nagging at him to get some rest. He lifted his head for a moment then did a double-take, eyes widening. The hybrid was nothing more than a gooey pile of green and red gore. Metallic pieces were scattered all over the arena. It looked like something with immense strength had torn it apart. But there was no one else in the arena. 

...

Had he done that?

There was no fucking way. 

"A13! You will now be returned to your room. You are expected to clean up and rest for the next three days. Then research will continue."

Breckin wanted to spout some sarcastic bullshit, but could only manage a grating cough. His throat felt raw as if he had been yelling for hours. Slowly, Breckin forced himself to his bare feet. His muscles screamed in protest, and he wavered a bit. A wave of dizziness almost knocked him back to the floor. He stood through it.

The smaller set of doors opened, and a new lab assistant came through with a wheelchair. Breckin did not protest as she helped him into it. A blanket was draped over his body, hiding his nudity from the rest of the faculty. His head lolled with exhaustion. The door shut quietly behind them. Blood soaked some parts of the blanket as they made the trek back to Breckin's dormitory. The cuts on his body must still be bleeding.  
When they reached his dorm, the assistant entered the code on the keypad beside the thick door. The little beeps sounded far away to Breckin. The lights were not on, which he was thankful for. 

"Your nurse should be here in a few minutes." There was a look of fear in the assistant's blue eyes. "Congratulations on surviving, A13." With that, she was gone.

Breckin stared at the ceiling of his room with half-lidded eyes. What had happened to him? And the Griever - how the hell did - What pulverized it?

His scattered thoughts were interrupted by a familiar man stepping into the room, pushing a cart of medical equipment and an IV pole. Nurse Dimitri had been tending to Breckin's wounds and illnesses for two years now. He was the only person Breckin would consider a friend, even if the man was still a be gruff with him. 

"You survived," was how the nurse greeted him.

"Everyone's saying that," Breckin said in a hoarse whisper. His throat felt like he had been swallowing sand paper. "I know why," he added when Dimitri opened his mouth. "The serum killed the others."

"You are stronger than others," said Dimitri, his accent thick as usual. "You have many challenges ahead of you. Doctor Reed will want more testing done on you." He prepped a bag on the IV stand. Breckin sighed quietly as Dimitri took hold of his right arm and turned it over to find a vein. "Needle," he warned before poking him.

Breckin barely grimaced. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"No."

"Serum in your veins turns you into monster."

Breckin blinked slowly for a moment. "Come again?"

"I should not say nothing." Dimitri glanced around the room before leaning over to take Breckin's temperature. "But you will find out soon. Serum went into your body. Changed your DNA. The scientists made you into monster." The thermometer beeped, and Dimitri recorded the temperature. "Ninety-nine point six. High but not un-normal. You are only one to pass test and live. Doctors will want more battles with machine hybrids."

"But why?"

"To test strength." Dimitri looked down at him. "Your trials have just begun."


	3. The Other

Breckin sighed quietly as he looked at the others through the one-way mirror. On the other side was a large room filled with boys his age. All were dressed in nice clothes, unlike the ugly pale blue hospital gown he had on, provided to them by the scientists. They were sitting at tables with plates of food in front of them. Their mouths moved animatedly as they talked and laughed with each other. 

He felt isolated, which he was. Sure, he had Dimitri, but his nurse was not his age, not someone he could relate to. 

He narrowed his eyes as the nearest group of boys laughed wholeheartedly at a joke one of them said. None of them were monsters like him, even though he was still unsure what kind of monster he was. When he was tested he could not remember much, except that he would race around on all fours and his throat burned like he had been screaming for hours. At first he had asked the scientists if he could see himself on the video feed that he knew was recording his every move during the tests; they laughed at him and said he would not be able to handle it. 

Something caught his eye when he scanned the laughing group. One of the boys was staring at the mirror a few inches to the right of where he was standing. Blond brows furrowed as dark brown eyes appeared to be searching the glass. Breckin cocked his head to the side in confusion. What was the boy looking at? Could he see him? His unheard question was answered when the boy turned to his friend and laughed at another joke he was telling. Breckin felt his shoulders sink in disappointment. 

"A13."

Heaving a sigh, Breckin looked to his left. 

Dr. Kinger, a young woman with dark blue eyes and dyed purple hair, was hurrying towards him with a clipboard in hand. She was panting slightly as if she had just finished power-walking or something. 

"Yeah?" he mumbled.

"I've been looking all over for you." The doctor came up to his side. "You were supposed to be in the arena ten minutes ago."

"Reed said I had the day off to recuperate."

"It was not Doctor Reed that requested your audience."

Breckin arched a brow. 

"It's one of his higher ups. They wish to see how you have progressed in the past six months."

"It's not night," Breckin pointed out. The past six trials had taken place after the sun had gone down, spaced several weeks apart. "Why would they need me during the day?"

"I can not tell you, A13. It's -"

"Classified, yeah I know." Breckin turned away from her to look back at the group of boys. They had finished their meal and were getting up from the table. The blond boy's dark gaze seemed to be trying to burn a hole in the mirror. "I'll be right there."

"Very good, A13." The doctor marched away from him.

Breckin rolled his eyes. "My name is Breckin," he muttered, bringing a hand up to rest it on the smooth cold glass. He tapped his fingers against it in annoyance. Stupid mirror. Stupid scientists. Stupid isolation. His index finger tapped harshly against the mirror. Then he noticed something weird. The blond boy was staring directly at him. He watched, unsure and amazed at the same time, as the boy skirted around the table and stood in front of the mirror. One of his friends, a boy who seemed to be of Asian decent like Dr. Kinger, asked him an unheard question. The boy shook his head then motioned to the mirror. 

"I'm here," Breckin whispered.

The boy reached out to press a hand against the glass. Breckin's heart raced as he scooted his own hand up until it overlapped the boy's. Breckin tried to imagine the warmth of the palm and fingers, a stark contrast to the cold and harshness of the scientists' prodding hands. Breckin used his index finger to again tap on the glass. 

Dark brown eyes seemed to stare into his as the boy focused on the mirror. Then his head suddenly whipped to the side and, to Breckin's horror, he backed away.

"No. Come back," Breckin pleaded in a whisper. "Please. Come back."

The boy could not hear him; he moved away, tray now in both hands. He glanced over his shoulder at the mirror when Breckin slammed his hand against it.

"Don't leave me. Please, stay." Breckin felt tears well in his eyes. "Don't leave me alone." He choked on a sob, pressing his forehead against the glass. It was still cold. His tears streamed down his face. He felt sadness give way to rage as the moments passed. There was a darkness that tried to overcome his vision, his mind, but he shook it away. He felt a pain in his head that seemed to spread throughout his body. His eyes narrowed against the searing ache. Through slit eyes he watched his hand as it seemed to elongate in size; the nails started to grow at an alarming rate, sharping into points. An itch started at his fingertips and traveled up his arm. Had the scientists implants bugs under his skin?! 

"A13!" 

Breckin ignored the shout. Instead, he focused on the light brown hair that was growing at a rapid pace along his hand and arm.

"What the fuck is happening?!" he demanded in a high-pitch cry. 

"A13! You need to calm down!"

He whipped his head to the side. Doctor Reed was standing at the end of the hallway with some important-looking people in business suits. Breckin panted heavily as the pain seemed to worsen. He dropped into a crouch, hands clutching his head, nails piercing his flesh. A scream ripped his throat. 

"What has happened? He can not do this now. The time isn't right!"

"Something must have triggered it!"

"Someone sedate him!"

Breckin heard the tapping of shoes rushing towards him. When they were close enough, Breckin lashed out with an arm that definitely had more muscle than a few minutes ago. There was a sharp gasp then a loud thump. He pivoted on the spot, long toenails scraping loudly against the tiled floor. The urge to hurt something was overwhelming. He needed them to hurt. He needed them to feel his pain that was grown from the isolation and the experiments. 

He felt a small twinge of pain in his side as he lunged through the air towards the fallen scientist. The man was lying in a crumbled heap on the other side of the hallway. An easy target. Breckin landed on top of the man's legs and raised his hand. The swipe landed, nails digging into soft flesh. A scream of pain and terror echoed in his ears. 

Yes! Make them feel the pain!

Another small pain pricked his side. 

Breckin paused mid-attack and turned his gaze to where the slight discomfort was coming from. Darts. Two of them, red feathery crap fluttering on one end, the sharp points in his ribs. Breckin's eyes snapped up to the scientists. They were cowering behind a line of agents standing shoulder to shoulder in the span of the hall. At least two of them were holding dart guns, and the rest had riot shields protecting them. Breckin huffed, then curled his lips in a snarl. 

He shoved off the body under him. His body sailed through the air before landing on all fours in front of the agents. His nails scratched at the ground as he skidded to a halt. A growl rumbled his throat. 

Then the medicine started to kick in. 

A woozy feeling overpowered him, and Breckin slumped to the side. His body made a heavy thump against the floor. 

"Explain yourself, Reed! Now!" 

"I can - I - H-He must have been triggered by something!" 

Breckin took a deep breath. The long brown hairs on his arm and hand - the one in his view - started to fall off in clumps, leaving behind his pale, scarred skin. His claw-like nails fell off with little pops and new ones - normal ones - grew in their place. Breckin winced at the feeling, but this was nothing compared to what he had endured in the past. 

"Someone check the cameras! Why was he near the mirror in the first place?!"

Echoing footsteps caught Breckin's hazy attention. A pair of shiny shoes approached him. The voices faded away into a spooky silence. When the shoes were within striking range, Breckin tried to lift his arm to swipe at the person, but his body was too heavy. All he could do was grumble quietly as the scientist squatted beside him. A rough hand grabbed the side of his face and forced him to turn his head. His half-lidded eyes met the icy eyes of the scientist.

"F-Fuck you, Reed," Breckin muttered. 

Dr. Reed frowned, not impressed. Breckin gave another halfhearted grumble. "You are in a lot of trouble, A13," Dr. Reed said. 

Breckin tried to glare at the scientist, but sleep overpowered him in mere moments.


	4. The Taps

Another two months passed before Breckin was allowed out of the prison-like facility connected to the arena. For two whole months his life revolved around electric shocks, being pitted against Grievers, and recovering. He barely seemed to have time to eat or sleep; Dimitri had to fight with Dr. Reed about allowing him to rest. His reasoning was that Breckin would not be useful if he was half-dead and weak as hell. Dr. Reed had relented but only because the scientists had invested too much time and energy in their experiment. 

The ankle bracelet scrapped unpleasantly against his skin. A small green light on the front of it would pulse every minute or so, and the flashing annoyed Breckin to no end. But there was nothing he could do about it. This was part of his punishment. 

He glanced around the corner, and, not seeing anyone, silently moved down the hall towards the one-way mirror. He knew it was past dinner time, and the boys on the other side of the glass would most likely be in their dormitories, if that was where they slept.

Breckin took his chances though. Maybe one of the boys had stayed behind in an act of rebellion. 

For once in his life, he was in luck.

There, on the other side of the mirror, was one of the boys. Breckin recognized him as the blond who had seem interested in the mirror, his dark brown eyes staring, unblinking, at the far wall. He did not seem as full of life as he did the last time Breckin saw him. Instead, he seemed to be in some kind of emotional turmoil. Breckin watched as he hastily wiped away a tear. 

Breckin stepped up to the mirror. His hand seemed to move on its own accord, rising to press against the glass. The tips of his fingers started to make a light hammering sound. 

The boy jolted, head swiveling around to find out what he had heard. His dark eyes narrowed when he could not see anybody, and Breckin frowned. 

"I'm over here," he whispered, fingers tapping again. "The mirror."

As if he could hear him, the boy turned in his seat to stare at the wall. Slowly, he rose from the table and approached the mirror. 

Now that there were no other teenagers around to distract him, Breckin examined the boy. His blond hair was short and messy, as if he had run his fingers through it repeatedly. Dark eyes were narrowed with suspicion. His long-sleeve blue shirt and grey sweatpants looked a lot comfier than the dull pasty green scrubs Breckin was wearing. And he was actually had on socks! Breckin was never allowed footwear, and felt a twinge of jealousy. He had always felt the cold tile floor or the dirt of the arena under his feet. The boy was also taller than him, but did not really look older. Perhaps they were around the same age.

"I'm here."

Breckin moved his hand away from the glass enough to curl it into a fist. Then he rapped his knuckles in a small pattern: two - three - one. He repeated it twice, and the boy came closer until he was standing just to the left of Breckin. "Close enough," Breckin whispered.

The boy cocked his head a bit, confusion written all over his pale face. 

Breckin again tapped his knuckles in the pattern. He watched, scared and fascinated, as the boy raised his own fist and knocked back. Breckin could not stop the smile from tugging at his mouth. He made contact! With another teenager! 

Taptap - taptaptap - tap

The other boy did the pattern again. 

"I'm here," Breckin repeated, giving a confirming knock. 

Dark brown eyes searched over the mirror. Breckin could see the tear tracks on his cheeks. He briefly wondered what had happened to make the other boy cry.

Tap

Taptap

A small smile brightened the other boy's gloomy face. 

"You're not alone," Breckin said quietly. "I'm not alone."

A door swung open in the room on the boy's side. He quickly turned away from the mirror, dropping his hand to his side. Breckin watched as an agent marched into the room and spoke to the other boy. Judging by the agent's stern face, Breckin guessed the boy had sneaked out after curfew. His own hand falling, Breckin felt a deep depression weigh down his shoulders. He finally - finally - had contacted someone outside of his prison, and it was over just like that.

The room on the other side grew dark. 

Breckin turned away from the mirror and sighed. With great reluctance he trudged back to his room.


	5. The Notebook

Breckin stared in amazement when he saw the other boy sitting at the table. Never in his dreams would he imagine the boy would be seemingly waiting for him. Every night for the past four days Breckin had wandered to the mirror hallway, foolishly believing the boy would be there. Every time he had been disappointed.

But not tonight.

Feeling a wave of happiness, Breckin hurried over to the mirror on tiptoe then knocked.

The boy jolted in his seat. A notebook and a pencil must have made a small clatter when they hit the floor. 

Breckin chuckled quietly as the boy's mouth moved in an obvious curse. From reading his lips, Breckin knew he was calling him "a son of a bitch" and "an ass." He rapped again. The boy bent down, grabbed his items, then walked over to where Breckin was knocking. When he was within a foot of Breckin's location, he paused and wrote something on the notebook. Breckin waited patiently for him to finish. 

When he was done the boy turned the notebook around and pressed it against the glass. Breckin paused a moment before reading to thank Dimitri for the writing-reading lesson he had given him over the years. 

"'I know it's a 1-way mirror. Can you see me? One knock, yes. Two knocks, no.'"

Breckin didn't know how the boy knew about the mirror being one-way. Maybe he asked one of the other boys or overheard some agents talking about it.

He knocked once.

The boy blinked in surprise then flipped his notebook around. His pencil flew across the paper. 

...

Breckin noticed the boy had circle his previous answer. "Are you a scientist?"

Tap-tap

...

"Cop?"

Tap-tap

...

"Kid?"

Tap

The boy stared at the mirror for a moment. Then he started to really write. It look as if he was trying to jot down a paragraph or something. Breckin waited until the notebook was flipped back to him. A series of numbers, thirteen through nineteen, had been drawn on the paper. The boy held the pencil in his teeth as he pointed at the number sixteen then himself. 

"Sixteen, hm?" Breckin watched as the boy took his pencil then pointed at the numbers. When he reached the sixteen, Breckin tapped on the glass. The boy circled the number. Breckin watched the boy's face scrunch a bit in confusion then his pencil was flying again.

...

"My name is Newt. What is yours?"

Newt. 

Finally a name to go with the face. There was not "Doctor" or "Professor" or any other weird add-ons to it. Just a simple name. But it meant the world to Breckin.

Under the question was the entire alphabet. Breckin smiled. Just like he did to find out his age, Newt would point at the letter and record it, then restart at the beginning. Finally, after a couple minutes, Breckin's name was written under the alphabet. He stopped knocking when Newt wrote down the "N." Breckin's smile widened as Newt mouthed his name, testing it on his tongue. He wrote something on the paper. Then looked up where he thought Breckin was. 

...

"Are there other teens with you?"

Tap-tap.

...

"You're alone?"

Tap

...

"I'm sorry to hear that. Are you allowed over here?"

Tap-tap

Newt frowned. Breckin wondered what he was thinking about. For a few moments the two stood there in silence, aware of each other but not understanding what the other was thinking. Breckin pressed his forehead against the cold glass, eyes boring into Newt's. "I don't want to be alone anymore," he whispered. 

...

"We'll find a way out. - "

The door opened behind Newt. Breckin knocked against the glass urgently, and Newt spun around. It was that Asian boy from before.  
Breckin could only watch in silence as the other teen walked over. His clothes were very similar to Newt's: both were wearing facility-issued grey sweatpants and long-sleeved shirts. Newt's was dusty orange, and the new kid's was grey-blue. That must be their sleeping attire, Breckin guessed. Newt motioned to the mirror then showed the notebook to his friend. Confusion flashed across the Asian teen's face. He seemed to be asking Newt questions. Then he stepped up to the mirror next to Newt. He raised a hand to knock on the glass. 

Breckin knocked back, and the teen jumped back in surprise. 

Newt scribbled something in the notebook before flipping it to Breckin. "Minho," was written with an arrow pointing to the teen beside him. Then he wrote again. "Are you still there?"

Tap

...

"Do you know why you are here?"

Tap

Newt said something to Minho, and Breckin thought his lips read something like "same as us?". Newt then flipped back to the alphabet, and Breckin tapped out a message to him. It took some time, but eventually Newt and Minho had managed to decipher the knock code. Breckin looked away as Newt's eyes scanned what Breckin had tapped out.

"Serum. Pain. Fight."

A light tap on the mirror made Breckin look up. 

Newt was pressing his hand against the glass. 

Breckin hesitated. 

What if whatever had happened last time repeated itself? Would he break the glass and hurt Newt? Would he hurt Minho? 

Before he could question himself further, his hand was back on the mirror. Breckin closed his eyes for a moment to image what it would feel like to have another's palm against his. A hand that did not inflict pain, but gave comfort.

When he opened his eyes again, Newt was still staring at the glass. Then Minho glanced behind them. He muttered something to Newt, who seemed to grumble under his breath. He dropped his hand to write. 

...

"Guard coming. I'll be back tomorrow."

Breckin knocked against the glass to let Newt know he understood. He watched Newt and Minho turn away then hurry from the room, leaving no trace behind. Breckin sighed quietly. He turned away from the mirror and started down the long silent hallway. His bare feet made just the smallest of sounds.

A door opened when he started to round the corner. Breckin swiftly backtracked and pressed against the wall, though he did almost flinch away from the cold. Two voices drifted towards him. He recognized Reed's menacing nasal voice, but the other was unfamiliar to him. A female. Not old but not young. 

"That is very interesting, doctor. Now, how has A13 been lately?"

"He has shown great progress," Reed replied, "His transformations have been flawless. The machines do not stand a chance against him anymore. My superiors have hinted they want him to fight against more than one. Possibly two or three at a time."

"Do you think he will be able to do it?"

"As long as he keeps his head on his shoulders. He seems to be drawn to watching your boys through the mirror in your cafeteria."

"Should we allow him access to the others?" the female doctor asked. "He has been isolated from others his age, except for the occasional young nurse that manages to get employment here. Perhaps a day with the boys - "

"No," Reed interrupted. "He will be too awkward, and possibly violent towards the others. We do not want a massacre in here."

The female doctor was silent for a moment. "This serum you have administered to him... What does it exactly do? I have seen the charts, and his vitals seem to increase almost tenfold when he is in the arena at night."

"My assistants and I were given an assignment to find a cure for the Flare."

The Flare.

Breckin had heard about it before. It was a deadly virus that turned human beings into crazed monsters with a never-fading craving for fresh flesh. "Zombies" was what Dimitri had called them when Breckin had gathered the courage one day to ask him. Apparently the sun was the cause of it, and had created worldwide panic and chaos. 

"We have tested this serum on twelve boys in the past, and not one of them made it past the first stage. After a great amount of tweaking the formula, we were finally given a survivor: A13. His DNA bonded with and was altered by the serum. But, of course, all cures and serums come with side effects. A13 becomes a true monster when the time is right."

"If he becomes a monster, how does he not lose control?"

"He seemed to have developed a barrier in his mind that prevents the monster from fully taking over. He stays coherent, though he does not follow commands very well. He will need to be trained."

"Have you given any thought about putting him in?"

"In the square? No. Why do you ask? What use would he be there?"

"Think about it, Doctor. We are working on an experiment that can save the world. He can be placed in with the others and become their protector while we study them."

Reed hummed loudly, but Breckin did not believe that was a rejection to her proposal. "I will think about it," he said after a moment of silence.

"Very well."

The doctors' footsteps traveled down the hall, away from Breckin, whose mind was a swirling chaotic mess. He did not want to think about what he just heard, but his brain would not stop echoing the conversation. The doctors were using him to find a treatment for a deadly disease and that had turned him into a monster? He remembered the long claws and light brown hair that had grown that night. 

Was that the work of the serum? 

"Breckin, why you out of bed?" Dimitri's voice almost frightened him out of his skin. Breckin whipped around and spotted his nurse walking towards him. "It's late. You must rest." The nurse glanced at the mirror. "You looking through window again?"

"It helps the loneliness," Breckin muttered. He did not miss the look of concern on Dimitri's face. "It gets lonely over here. You're the only one I really talk to, but, no offense, Dimitri, but you're not my age. People my age need interaction with others."

Dimitri shook his head. "You can not be with them." Dimitri rested a hand on Breckin's shoulder. "Come, Breckin. Let's get you to bed."

Breckin heaved a sigh but allowed his nurse to guide him through the maze of hallways to his dormitory. A silence fell over them. Breckin obediently followed Dimitri. His thoughts flashed back to the conversation he had overheard. 

"Dimirti, what's the square?"

The nurse glanced at him over his shoulder. "Square?"

"I-I heard Reed talking with another doctor. She mentioned putting me in a square to protect others while they were studied."

Dimitri was quiet for a moment. "It is large experiment," he finally said. "A place of study for cure for Flare. Doctor Reed not head of program. He would not place you there without higher authority permission. You are too expensive."

"Glad to know I'm worth a lot of money," Breckin muttered.

"Work on serum is expensive. You are as well. Whole operation is." Dimitri opened the door leading to Breckin's dormitory. "Now, no more talk of squares."

Breckin glared at the back of the nurse's head. That was not what he was wanting to hear. "It's like pulling teeth with you people."

"Do not pull out teeth," Dimitri chided him. "They are grown-up teeth and not easily replaced."

"It was a figure of speech," Breckin explained in a grumble. He slid past Dimitri, who was logging into the computer that was permanently stationed on the island where Breckin ate his meals. "Why do they not want me near the mirror hall?"

Dimitri glanced up from his typing. "I should not tell you."

"Please, Dimitri?"

"Your DNA has been changed," Dimitri said. "But you are not supposed to change except at night. You change during day. Doctor Reed still trying to figure out trigger."

"That was two months ago," Breckin said, sitting on his stool at the island. He leaned his elbows on the chilly metal of the table. "Have they not gotten over that yet?"

Dimitri shook his head and returned to the computer. 

"I know what happened."

"What you mean?"

"I think I know what triggered it." Breckin stared down at the tabletop. "Seeing the other boys seemed to have an effect on me. They have interaction. I don't, except you. The isolation is driving me insane." He looked up and met Dimitri's dark eyes. "Being near the mirror, seeing the others, it's calming but maddening. I can see them, read their lips, understand their conversations, but I'm not a part of that."

"I can not give anti-depressants," Dimitri said. "It may have bad effect with serum."

"I don't need more meds," Breckin muttered. "I just need... something."

"We all need something." Dimitri looked up at the clock on the wall. "It is late. You must rest. Tomorrow night will be another trial." 

Breckin sighed quietly. The conversation was over, for now. He slid from his stool and bypassed Dimitri to go through the curtain that separated his room from the rest of the dorm. There used to be a door, but Breckin had destroyed it in a fit of rage one afternoon. The scientists decided not to give him a new one, so Dimitri had some of the agents nail a thin sheet in its place.

He stripped off his hospital scrubs until he was just in the scratchy boxers the facility provided for him. His bed looked comfortable, and he could smell the clean scent of detergent. Dimitri must have asked one the cleaners to wash his blankets. With a small sigh, Breckin lied down, tugging the comforter over his body. 

But sleep did not come easily.

His mind would not shut down. Images of Newt's smile kept flashing through his brain, and he could still hear phantom snip-its of the conversation between the scientists. Breckin rolled onto his side and curled into a ball. He lay awake for at least an hour before his eyelids forced themselves shut.


	6. The Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do want to apologize for any confusion. These chapters are mainly for Breckin's character development.

A scream hurt Breckin's throat, but it was nothing compared to the volts of electricity shooting through his body. His muscles locked. His eyes flew open to stare at the white ceiling.

Just as suddenly as it started, the electric current stopped. 

Breckin bent over at the waist, swayed for a moment, then fell in a heap to the floor. The chill immediately seeped through his flesh, cooling the overheated muscles.

"A13! Get to your feet!"

A groan drifted into the air.

"Now!"

With a low grunt, Breckin forced himself to stand. About half way there, he was overpowered by a series of dry heaves. He had not eaten the night before; stomach acid burned its way up his throat. He quickly spat the terrible liquid out then made his body stand up straight.

"Do you know why you are being punished, A13?"

"No," Breckin whispered, voice faint even to his sharp ears. 

"I said: Do you know why you are being punished?"

Breckin shook his head, though he quickly stopped after a few seconds as another wave of nausea made him gag. 

"You are under a strict curfew," the voice said, loud and harsh. Breckin winced as it echoed and reechoed off the bare walls of the room. "You are to be in your dormitory by nine o'clock every night. Were you in your dormitory at nine o'clock, A13?"

Again, Breckin shook his head.

"Where were you, A13?" The voice didn't wait for him to answer, instead continuing, "You were found near the mirror, again! And well passed curfew! You have been told repeatedly to stay away from there!"

Breckin winced. There was no way he could deny it. He had been at the mirror almost every night the past week. Newt had been with him those nights, using his notebook to ask yes or no questions. He had told Breckin about some of the other boys, about how he had a sister somewhere in building. He even confided in Breckin that his favorite color was burnt orange. Breckin had responded back the only way he could, by knocking on the mirror.

Every night he had been careful.

Then he slipped.

It happened just after Newt had bid him good-night and left the cafeteria when a security guard came around the corner. Breckin tried his best to lie that he had been sleep-walking, but the guard would not listen to him. Back-up had been called, the guard having created some bullshit story about Breckin losing control again. Less than thirty seconds later four more guards had shown up, and Breckin had at least three darts sticking out of his ribs. 

Dr. Reed had been less than pleased about being woken in the middle of the night to be told his experiment had disobeyed him, again. Breckin had been told repeatedly not to go near the mirror, but the drive to be near another person had been too powerful. Breckin craved the time he spent with Newt. Just even the slightest thought of the blond riled his blood.

"Do you enjoy being punished, A13?"

Breckin shook his head. 

"Will you be a good boy for now on?"

He nodded, though privately he was flipping off the voice. He just didn't want to be electrocuted again.

The door opened, and a nurse bustled in with a wheelchair. Breckin stood as still as he possibly could so the nurse could remove the electric patches. His muscles jumped every few seconds, though, and he quietly apologized to her. She helped him into the chair and started to wheel him out when a female voice called over the intercom.

"Nurse Hayden."

The nurse paused abruptly; Breckin slid an inch forward in his chair and growled in frustration.

"Take A13 to the research lab."

Breckin rolled his eyes, head dropping to his chest. Why in the hell was he going there? His body slowly calmed as the nurse pushed him to the dreaded laboratory. For a moment he wondered if he could fake a cough and be sent back to his room, then he remembered: they didn't give a damn if he got sick. They would just pump him full of crap, and he'd be better in a day. Of course, how could he forget.

Dr. Reed was already in the lab when the nurse pushed Breckin over the threshold. "Welcome back, A13. Did you enjoy yourself?" His smile was wide. "I heard you got the shock of your life."

"You're...a...dick," Breckin wheezed. 

"As you have told me multiple times over the years. Nurse." Dr. Reed looked up from Breckin. "Strap his arms to the chair."

At once the nurse set to her task; Breckin winced at the sheer chill of the metal cuffs. The nurse clicked them loudly into place. When she was finished, she hurried away as if she had something really important to do.

"A13." 

Breckin slowly turned his gaze to Reed. A female scientist with blond hair tied up in a bun was standing next to him. There was a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. She didn't seem like the assistant type; Breckin figured she had to be another scientist.

Dr. Reed motioned to the woman. "May I introduce Doctor Ava Paige." 

"W-What?"

The blond woman stepped closer to Breckin then paused to glance at the glass window on the right side of the room. Breckin looked over as well. At least a half dozen people in business suits were in the observation room, staring back at him. He tried to growl at them, but ended up coughing.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is A13, Dr. Reed's experiment. Thirteen volunteers -" Breckin scoffed. " - were given a serum, A.M., and A13 was the only survivor. He has been given the ability to change his entire form into that of another. A monster, if you will. This transformation had only been triggered by moonlight, natural or artificial, until recently. A13 managed to transform during day time hours." Dr. Paige turned to look at Breckin again. "I believe I have found the possible trigger."

Breckin stared at the blond, confused. He already knew what the trigger to his daylight transformation was. How did she find out?

"Ladies and gentlemen, A13's daylight transformation was triggered by the isolation he feels. Security footage and information provided by nurses has shown that A13 had become severely depressed from being isolated from others his own age. Repeatedly, he has been recorded staring through a one-way mirror in the Para Corridor. A cafeteria for my boys is on the other side. He would stare at them for hours, watching as they interacted with each other. In the footage, his depression is clearly visible." Breckin caught Dr. Paige sending a dark glance at Reed. What the hell was that about? "One of my boys managed to make contact with A13. It was the first time A13 had any contact with someone other than a nurse or scientist. Security footage showed that my boy had to run from security as he had been out passed curfew. Him abruptly leaving must have triggered A13's depression, and his body reacted." Breckin didn't like this woman; she could read him so easily.

"Where are you going with this?" demanded Dr. Reed, his face starting to turn a weird shade of purple. 

Breckin stared from him to the blond doctor.

"I believe it would be for the best if A13 was put in the maze with other boys. The isolation he is enduring could possibly lead to dangerous behavioral problems, if they have not started manifesting already." Dr. Paige slowly tucked a loose lock of blond hair behind her ear. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe placing A13 in the maze will greatly benefit him. He will have the space to stretch his limbs. He will be around others. My question to you is this: do you really want to have a monster with pent-up energy roaming our halls, attacking our agents, or would you rather have him be studied out in the field, where we can receive more accurate results for the A.M. serum?"

There was a faint click then a voice sounded from the speaker on the wall. Breckin looked over at the observation room window. A man with a bald head and a crisp suit had stepped up to the microphone. "Which of your boys triggered the transformation?"

"Newton," Dr. Paige responded. "Footage from the cameras has revealed he and Breckin have created a crude form of friendship. Newton would write in a notebook, and A13 would respond by tapping on the glass. I have seen the despair in A13's eyes when they have to separate for the night, and the glee when they are together."

"Have you thought about placing him with the other boys, even for a few minutes, to see how they would interact?"

Dr. Reed stepped forward, face still purple. "I would not allow A13 to have a 'play date' with Doctor Paige's boys. A13 could possibly attack one of them -"

"Only because he would not know any better," Dr. Paige interrupted, talking slowly as if she were responding to a child. "A13 has been around adults all his life." Dr. Paige reached out and caressed Breckin's hair; he snapped at her. He saw her flinch, but apparently the others did not. "I have one more experiment to conduct before you make a decision, doctors." Dr. Paige pulled a walkie-talkie from her pocket. "Agent Craw, please bring in the bag."

A door opened. Breckin looked up as a tall, dark-skinned man in normal security guard suit stepped into the room. A black bag was in his hands. Breckin scoffed as the guard walked importantly over to them. 

"Observe, ladies and gentlemen, how A13 does not react when he is near us. He is used to our scents. Now, if we were to introduce him to a new scent - " She motioned to the bag, and the guard opened it.

Breckin gave the guard a 'are-you-fucking-kidding-me' look. Then he smelled it. He could not describe it - he guessed it was what sunshine would smell like, warm and comforting. His eyes closed as he breathed it in. Something was draped over his shoulders. He turned his head and was met with a soft fabric. A low growl rumbled in his sore throat. 

"As you can see, he has remained calm." Dr Paige's voice broke into Breckin's thoughts. "Recently, my colleagues and I were reviewing the possible side effects for the A.M. serum, and we discovered one had been overlooked. It seemed as if it had been deliberately ignored because of the lack of females being researched in same facility."

"What was this side effect?" asked a woman from the observation room.

"The need to be near and protect a mate."

Dr. Reed made a strange coughing sound. 

Breckin opened his eyes. He was met with the grey fabric of a jacket. The wonderful smell was coming from it. Breckin nuzzled into the warm material.

"Wh-What are trying to say?" D. Reed demanded.

"You have been keeping him from his mate." Dr. Paige shot another glare at Reed. "Look how docile he has become, and just from breathing in Newton's scent."

Newton? This was Newt's jacket?

Another growl faintly echoed throughout the room as that information sunk it. 

"Now if we were to abruptly remove the jacket." Dr. Paige stepped back and nodded to the guard. The jacket was snatched away from Breckin. A snarl curled his lips, and Breckin lunged at the guard, who was standing just out of reach with the jacket in his hands. The wheelchair tilted forward, and Breckin slid off the seat on to the cold floor. His arms stretched painfully behind him, as his wrists were still in the cuffs; they bit into his flesh, and Breckin could faintly smell blood. He felt the itch of hair growing on his body. His face contorted, and he growled a low warning. 

The guard stumbled back as Breckin tried to lunge again. 

"Return the jacket to him."

It was promptly thrown back to Breckin. His snarling did not stop as he glared at the guard. The jacket landed less than a foot away from him. The chair's wheels squealed on the tiles as Breckin squirmed over to the crumpled jacket. Instantly the warmth that drifted from the material soothed his inner turmoil. He felt the hair start to fall from his body in clumps, then his nails replaced themselves. The discomfort in his face receded. 

"As you can see, just Newton's scent alone can calm the monster in A13," Dr. Paige pointed out. "Due to his mutated DNA, his mind recognizes his mate's scent, even though he has never been in the same vicinity as him."

"But A13 is not homosexual!" Reed said, face deepening to a plum color.

"Doctor Reed, we all know human sexuality is complex," said Dr. Paige in a dismissive tone. She turned back to the observation window. "Do you see the difference?" she asked the authoritative figures behind the glass. "He craves human interaction, especially that of his mate. That is why he keeps returning to the mirror."

Breckin's wrists were suddenly released from the restraints. He sat up, paused a moment to stretch his arms, then picked up the jacket. The fabric was a dark grey. A couple loose strings hung from the left cuff as if someone had been picking at it. Dr. Paige said it belonged to Newt. So is that what he smelled like? The scent wreathed around him, clouding his other senses. 

Then Breckin gave his head a brisk shake. 

What the fuck was he doing?

Newt is his what - What the fuck is a mate?

Why was he hugging Newt's jacket like it was really, really important to him?

It was just a jacket... But something in his mind savored the scent that clung to it.

He wanted to smack himself. 

This... This A.M. serum was fucking with his brain.

"Will he harm the others boy?"

"We do not know," Dr. Paige confessed. "If we were to erase his memories, then there is a chance his aggression will be reset. He will be given a whole new perspective of awareness. Being around others his age will be an asset, not only to himself but to us as well. We can gain information about the effects of the serum and how he reacts to others."

Breckin's eyes flicked up to the female doctor as he unzipped the jacket and slowly slipped it on over his naked torso. The comfort it provided was instantaneous. 

"If this plan of your fails, what will happen to A13?" asked Reed in a snide tone. "I have invested too much time, money, and research on him to just be wasted."

"Agents can retrieve him from the maze if he becomes too out of control," Dr. Paige said. Breckin caught her eye when she looked down at him. "But I do not believe that would be a problem. His depression may disappear altogether once he is there; in fact, he will not even remember being depressed at all. One of the major benefits of the maze: an almost complete restart." 

Breckin glared at her as he slowly zipped the jacket, daring her to take it away from him again. When she made no move to retrieve it, Breckin slowly got to his feet. His muscles still ached from being electrocuted, but he wanted to be ready to run or fight if someone tried to take the jacket. 

"A13," Dr. Paige addressed him. 

"Breckin," he muttered under his breath. 

Dr. Paige ignored him. "Do you believe you would benefit being placed with other boys in a neutral environment?"

Breckin coughed to clear his throat before answering in a grumble, "Anything is better than this fucking prison." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Can I sleep now? I feel like I've been used as a damn lightning rod."

"A13."

Rolling his eyes, Breckin turned to look at the window to the observation room. "Yeah?"

"Do you believe what Doctor Paige has been saying? That your... daylight transformation was caused by the isolation and depression you feel due to being away from the others?"

Breckin hesitated, then nodded slightly. "Yes, sir."

"Have you had any contact with the other boys? Have you ever been in the same room as them?"

"No, sir."

"Yet this jacket... Did you know it belonged to Doctor Paige's Newton?"

"No, sir."

"Did you know of the possibility of Newton being your mate?"

"I don't even know what a mate is."

A hushed conversation floated through the speaker. Breckin tugged awkwardly on the left sleeve. He really just wanted to go to sleep. 

"Thank you. That is all, A13. You may return to your dorm."

Breckin gave a small salute then flopped down in the wheelchair. "I'm keeping this jacket," he growled, stuffing his hands in the pockets. "It's mine now."

The nurse from earlier, Hayden, walked over and gave him a scathing look when he smiled up at her. She pushed him out of the lab. 

Breckin yawned as they traveled down the hallway. The scent on the jacket was making him even more tired. "Hey?"

Hayden hummed. 

"What's a mate?" His chair swerved for a second. He regained his balance and turned a bit to look up at Hayden. "Careful, sunshine. This lightning rod has already been through enough today." He gave a short, low laugh. "Anyways, what's a mate?"

"It's a partner. Someone to spend the rest of your life with." Hayden turned a corner. "How do you not know that?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I did," Breckin replied. "Do you have a mate?"

"Her name is Sara."

"Pretty," Breckin commented. "Is it common to have a mate who's the same sex as you?"

Hayden shook her head. "No. It's not."

"Oh. Welp." Breckin turned to face forward again. "I guess we're the odd ones, eh?"

"Not odd. Just different."

"I'll take your word for it." Breckin lapsed into silence the rest of the way to his dormitory. There were so many questions floating through his mind he thought he'd go mad. A headache stabbed at his brain. He winced, then buried his nose in the collar of the jacket. Newt's sunshine scent comforted him. 

Was it the A.M. serum that was making his react this way? 

Dimitri was in his dorm when Hayden pushed him through the door. The nurse was bustling about in his bedroom, setting up an IV and prepping bandages. He paused and looked up when Breckin coughed. 

"Was it bad?"

"A few thousand volts. Nothing I can't handle." Hayden and Dimitri helped Breckin to his bed. Now that her task was done, Hayden bid them both a good day and left. Dimitri immediately set about getting the IV needle ready. Breckin hesitated. He did not want to take off the jacket. Instead, he rolled up the sleeve. 

Dimitri eyed it as he steadied the needle above his hand. "Doctor Reed gave you jacket?" he asked then looked back to his task.

"No. It was given - ow... - to me by a Doctor Paige. Ava Paige."

"What for?"

"It was an experiment. Doctor Paige said it belonged to my mate, and that even just the smell is enough to calm my ass down. Apparently this serum shit Reed gave me comes with some weird side effects."

"You know what mate is?"

Breckin nodded. "I asked Hayden. She said it was someone you are partnered with for life."

"She is correct. Do you know the name of her?"

"It's a him."

Dimitri glanced up from wrapping bandages around Breckin's wrist. The skin was raw and a bit ragged from being cut by the metal cuffs. "Him?"

"He's one of Doctor Paige's wards. Newton."

"Newton?" Dimitri paused again, looking deep in thought. Then his face brightened. "I know that boy. Very bright. Smarter than most. Sure he is your mate?"

"I guess so. That's what the boss lady said." Breckin winced when Dimitri moved to his other wrist. "She wants to put me with some others in this maze."

"Put you in maze? With others? Will that not be good thing?"

"I don't know. She mentioned erasing my memories, so... There were a bunch of high-ups in the lab with us. I think she was trying to prove a point to them."

Dimitri hummed quietly and did not speak again until he was done bandaging Breckin's wrist. "She does not like Doctor Reed."

"No one does," Breckin muttered before closing his eyes.


	7. The Walkie-talkies

What kind of fuckery was this?

Breckin stared at the contents of the small cardboard box. It had been waiting for him on the island when he woke from a restless sleep. All night, his muscles would spasm randomly and wake him up. He remembered falling out of bed at least twice. 

He reached into the box and withdrew the black walkie-talkie. It looked similar to the one Doctor Paige had used yesterday. A bright pink piece of paper had been taped to the back of it. On it was a note written in Dimitri's hand-writing; Breckin could recognize that scrawl anywhere after reading it for two years. "Tonight. Mirror. 9 o'clock."

A short laugh burst out of him. This had to be some kind of joke. Was Dimitri trying to make a mockery out of all this... this bullshit? 

One moment Breckin felt absolute fury, but that instantly drained the next. 

Dimitri wouldn't do something this cruel to him. The nurse was the closest thing Breckin ever had to a friend, and he had never done anything wrong to him.

Breckin glanced at the clock.

It read one thirty-seven.

"Ugh." 

Before Dimitri left last night, he had told Breckin that he was to have the day off to rest. Which was a relief, because Breckin may have attacked that fucker who went above the voltage limit. At least his muscles had finally stopped twitching. 

Breckin set about busying himself to pass the time. He cleaned up his living area, which only had a kind of comfy sofa, a low metal table, and a bookshelf that had a few books on it. Then he rested on the sofa and read a magazine he had already flipped through a couple times, which resulted in him growing bored and napping until dinner. When he was done eating, he showered then lazed around in his nightwear, and Newt's jacket. 

After what felt like the billionth glance at the clock, Breckin decided it was time to go. He grabbed the walkie-talkie from the island and slipped out the door. 

His feet barely made a sound as he padded down the hallways. No one was around at this time of night, but Breckin still paused to listen before turning any corners. 

"This better not be a fucking joke."

Breckin turned the final corner. No one was on the other side the mirror wall. He sighed quietly. Then movement caught his eye. The door leading out of the cafeteria was opening. Breckin watched as Newt slid into the room beyond the glass. His heart beat picked up the pace, thrumming loudly in his ears. He began to feel flustered, something he noticed the last time he saw Newt. As the other teen approached the wall, Breckin reached up to tap against it. A small smile instantly brightened Newt's face. 

Newt approached with confidence then returned the knock. He raised his other hand, and Breckin's mouth dropped open in shock. He was holding a walkie-talkie! 

"Dimitri, you sly mother-fucker." 

Breckin held up his own walkie-talkie, though he knew Newt could not see it.

Newt twisted the knob at the top near the antenna. Breckin followed suit. Both of them waited for the other to speak. Breckin did not know what to say to him. There was so much to tell him - about the serum, about how they were supposedly mates, about how much he enjoyed his company, but Breckin could not breathe a word. 

"Breckin?"

Oh wow. Newt's voice was better than Breckin thought it would be. And he had an accent. He must have been brought here from one of the British Isles, possibly England. Breckin closed his eyes for a moment, memorizing the voice of his supposed mate.

Then, he reopened his eyes and brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth. He pressed the button on the side. His tongue could not form any words, and it took him a moment to compose himself enough to whisper, "Hi."

The smile on Newt's face seemed to grow bigger and brighter. "You really are there."

"Yeah," Breckin breathed. "I'm here."

"How have you been?"

Breckin hesitated again. There were so many ways he could answer so he settled with, "Let's just say I'm better now."

"What happened?" Newt's smile dropped into a concerned frown, and his brow furrowed. "Have they hurt you again?"

"They always hurt me," Breckin replied quietly. "Not today, thankfully." 

"The serum?"

"They stopped giving it to me when they got the results they were searching for. It was a punishment for being caught here."

Newt glanced down at his feet. "Will you get into trouble if your caught tonight?"

Breckin shrugged, though he knew Newt could not see him. "Possibly. But it's worth it since I get to actually talk to you."

A light shade of pink decorated Newt's pale cheeks. "I don't want you to get in trouble for talking to me."

"Like I said, it's worth it." Breckin smiled at the boy on the other side of the glass. "How have you been, Newt?"

"Confused, actually."

"How so?"

"A good friend of mine vanished about a month ago." Newt frowned again. "The scientists will not tell me or the others anything. But he's not the first one to disappear. They seem to be leaving in intervals. At least a month apart."

Breckin mirrored Newt's frown. "I haven't had anybody new on this side so they're not being experimented on over here. Maybe they were taken to another facility?"

"Possibly." They fell into a slightly uneasy silence for a few moments before Newt spoke again. "It's nice to finally have a voice to go with the knocks." Newt seemed to be scrutinizing the mirror. "No face though," he commented quietly. "What do you look like? It would be nice to have a face for the voice."

"Maybe an inch... or so taller than you. Short brown hair. I guess it's kind of like a red-brown. My eyes aren't as dark as yours; they're kind of an amber color, I guess." Breckin glanced down at his free hand and grimaced at the scars. "Kinda pale, but I think that's normal for not being out in natural sunlight for years. And scars. Many, many scars." 

Newt did not say anything for a moment. "Sounds like you look nice," he said, and Breckin's heart jumped to his throat. "Why do you have so many scars?"

"I''m forced to fight Grievers, and I... don't always get away unharmed."

"They are testing that serum you mentioned."

"Yeah. It's call A.M.. No clue what it stands for."

"What does it do?"

Breckin sighed quietly. "It makes me become a monster. Something not entirely human, but not completely animal. It's confusing and weird. And the side effects suck." Breckin took a deep breath and sighed again when he exhaled. "Sorry. I'm complaining."

"No. You're alright." Newt gave him a reassuring smile. "What kind of side effects, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I grow this thick hair all over. Nails grow long and sharp. My senses of hearing and smell seem to increase. And... uh... " Breckin trailed off. 

Newt cocked his head a bit to the side in confusion. "And what?"

Breckin gulped. He was not sure how to tell Newt about the instinct to be near him. The craving that made his heart race and palms sweat. "I-I... um... I feel a... drive to be near someone special, I guess. It was an overlooked side effect," he added quickly. "Since there are no females other than older nurses over here, it was not something Reed wanted to study."

"So you feel the need to be near a... partner?" Newt's brow furrowed again. "You said the serum made you more animal. Maybe the DNA of the animal the serum was made from... Maybe the animal needed a mate to survive," Newt guessed. 

Breckin shrugged, though Newt couldn't see it. "I'm not sure. All I know is that being away from them is worsening my depression."

"Do you have any idea of whom it could be?"

"Yeah," Breckin muttered after a moment's hesitation. "The doctor overlooking you and the other boys did an experiment on me yesterday. Doctor Ava Paige?"

Newt nodded, though he frowned. "I know her. What did she do to you?"

"I had a... daylight transformation a while ago, and she believed she knew what had caused it." Breckin glanced down at the jacket that hugged his torso. "She brought in a jacket. Newt - " Breckin loved the way his name felt on his tongue. " - it was one of yours. Dark grey. Your scent is all over it. I-I don't know what came over me." Breckin hesitated again; then he thought of all Newt had told him. The other boy had conversed through his notebook for so long, and Breckin wanted to repay him. He took a deep breath to calm his nerve; it didn't work. "I-I felt the need to be near you, and I didn't feel so alone. My depression vanished." He looked down again, shame burning in his veins. "Apparently, you're my mate, and not being near you causes the animal in me to come out."

Newt did not speak for a long time. Breckin figured he had fled the cafeteria after hearing he confession. He was quite surprised to see Newt was still there when he looked up. The blond's eyes were focused on the mirror, about an inch to the left of Breckin. His walkie-talkie was still raised to his pale pink lips.

"That... um... That's a lot to take in."

Breckin shrugged again. "Dimitri says my DNA was completely altered by the serum. I can't help that the animal side of me chose you as my mate." 

"Breckin - "

"I'm sorry, Newt. I don't mean to dump this all on you the first night we managed ot talk to each other." Breckin leaned his forehead against the glass. "I figured I'd tell you now in case I'm locked up for a month."

"No. It's okay." Newt smiled slightly. "It kind of explains the drive we feel to see - well, knock to each other."

Breckin sighed quietly. "I don't want to be alone anymore," he said.

"I'm right here, Breckin."

That brought a small smile to Breckin's face. "How's Minho?"

Newt's eye twitched at the deliberate change of subject, but he relented anyways. "He's doing well. Didn't want me to come tonight. Bloody fuck thought it was a trap or something." His accent sent shivers down Breckin's spine. "But he's doing great."

"I'm glad to hear that," Breckin replied honestly. 

"So what do I smell like?"

That caught Breckin off-guard. "What?" he squeaked, then cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment.

"You said my jacket smelled like me." Newt's eyebrows rose. "Do I smell good or not?"

"You smell like sunshine," Breckin said quietly. "Warm... comforting..." He trailed off when he realized how stupid he sounded. "Anyways, your scent calmed the animal side enough to return me to my all human body."

Newt turned his head to sniff the shoulder of his pale green night shirt. "I don't smell anything."

"The serum has sharpened my senses." Breckin paused, unsure of what to say next. He settled with, "It's great to hear your voice, Newt. You don't know how long I've been wanting to hear it."

A low laugh reached Breckin's ears through the walkie-talkie. He grinned widely as the sound echoed around him. "Same here, Breckin, though I still wish I could see you."

"Maybe now that the scientists believe we're mates, they'll let us actually spend some time together."

"Maybe." Newt pressed his free hand against the glass. Breckin repeated the gesture, again wondering what it would feel like to actually touch Newt's hand. Was it as soft as it looked? He noticed a small scar peeking out from under the sleeve of his shirt. Had Newt hurt himself? "It's going to take me a while to get used to this whole mate thing."

"Same," Breckin agreed.

"Will you be doing any trials tomorrow?"

"Most likely." Breckin grumbled a curse under his breath. "Used me as a fucking lightning rod yesterday, and they gave me today to recuperate."

Newt's eyes widened. "You were given electro-shock therapy? Why?"

"I was busted after you left," Breckin said. "Reed, the doctor in charge over here... uh... did not appreciate me breaking curfew to see you."

"I feel bad for getting you in trouble."

"Don't. It's my choice to break the rules to see you. Hell, even if Dimitri had not gifted us these talkies, I still would have shown up. The change in my DNA will not let me stay away."

Newt leaned forward until his forehead was against the mirror. "I'd give anything to see you in person. Hell, even a photograph would be nice."

"Dimitri managed to get us these, so maybe he has some influence over the docs." Breckin glanced at the clock on the wall behind Newt. "It's getting late," he murmured, noting it was already almost ten o'clock. "The guards will be making their rounds 'fore too long." He returned his gaze to Newt's dark eyes. "Hey... um... before I go, do you want your jacket back? I'm sure Dimitri or someone can return it."

Newt shook his head. "You can keep if it it's the only thing keeping your animal side under control."

"Thank you." Breckin heaved a sigh, already feeling reluctant to leave the mirror wall. "I have to go."

"Hide your walkie," Newt suggested. "You never know, it may reach from my dorm to yours."

"I hadn't thought of that. Good-night, Newt."

"Good-night, Breckin."

Breckin tried to smile but it appeared as a grimace. He tapped the knuckles of his free hand against the glass. Newt returned the tap then turned away. Breckin watched him walk towards the door leading out of the cafeteria, his glances back at the mirror not going unnoticed. Newt slid through the door and was gone. Breckin turned off the walkie and sighed quietly. 

The sound of heavy boots marching towards the mirror hallway caught his attention, and Breckin bolted down the hall on silent feet.


	8. The Mate

Breckin stared at Dr. Paige. 

Did he hear that correctly?

"Uh... What?" he asked dumbly.

Dr. Paige closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "We want you to meet your mate, in person," she repeated slowly, opening her eyes. "We have arranged for you two to be placed in a room together in the next fifteen minutes."

Breckin's heart pulsed loudly in his ears. He had been begging and hoping for weeks for this. Dimitri must have listened to his pleas and talked to the doctors. There was no other way this could be happening. 

"There will be a couple agents stationed in and out of the room, in case you happen to transform while visiting him." Dr. Paige's eyes scanned over his scarred torso. "Use this opportunity to memorize every thing about him," she suggested in a cryptic tone. 

Breckin offered a small smile, which seemed to startle her. He was ready to meet Newt, officially. Several nights for the past three weeks he and Newt would meet up by the mirror to talk. They had found out, much to their annoyance, that the walkies had a limit; the radios did not work in their dorms. When Breckin tried to bring up the walkies with Dimitri, the nurse would just smile and shush him. 

"It is best," he would say. 

A male nurse, older than Dr. Paige, came out pushing a cart that carried a computer and a now familiar jacket. Breckin felt his heart flutter. It had been missing since last night, and Breckin had torn his dorm apart looking for it. Newt's scent clung to the fabric; Breckin wondered if one of the scientists had taken it to Newt's room while they were asleep to renew the smell. The nurse handed it to him, and Breckin hastily put it on. 

"Come with me, please." The nurse led the way out the room. Breckin tried to keep the skip out of his step as he followed him. "You must be very excited," the nurse commented as they walked down a narrow but brightly lit hall. 

"Yeah. I've been waiting quite a while for this day." Breckin glanced at the nurse. "Will you be in the room as well?"

The nurse nodded. "I will be recording the interactions between you and your... mate."

"More research, I suppose?"

"Yes. The higher-ups of Doctors Reed and Paige requested it." The nurse stopped in front of a plain white door. A small scanner was beside it. A blinking red light signaled it was locked. The nurse held up the ID that hung around his neck by a blue lanyard, and had it scanned. The little red light turned green, and the lock clicked open.

Breckin followed the nurse inside. He was met with walls that had been painted a pale green. A few wooden chairs were placed about the room, and a wooden table pressed against right wall. Above the table was a rather clean aquarium filled with brightly colored fish. A guard was leaning back in another chair in the corner, arms crossing behind his head. 

Was this a meeting room for alcoholics or people who have anxiety?

The nurse bustled over to the table and set up the computer. He typed quickly then glanced at the small clock that hung above the door.

Breckin rushed over to the aquarium. The nurses would sometimes talk about them. He had only ever seen one in the books Dimitri brought him. Breckin leaned in close as a school of see-through fish with bright stripes of blue and red darted around. A little fish with long whiskers was scuffling around on the pale gravel at the bottom of the tank. Breckin's eyes followed one fish after another, mesmerized by their movements and the way they seemed to be of one mind. 

He was paying so much attention to the fish that when a warm body appeared next to him, he jumped then took up a defensive position. Hands curled into fists and body crouched, ready to spring. Then he caught the smell of sunshine. The warmth overloaded his senses, seeping into his bones. There was only one person in the facility who smelled like that. 

"Breckin."

Breckin looked up into dark brown eyes. They were so clear without the glare of the glass. He slowly straightened up, eyes never leaving Newt's face. Breckin watched as Newt took in his appearance: his hair must have been a spiky mess from running around the arena; the dark bags under eyes from lack of sleep; the scars that looked like someone had tried to make a cross-stitch of his flesh. Newt's eyes flashed downward to the jacket, black sweatpants, and bare feet; Breckin saw Newt's right foot, clad in a pristine white sock, scoot a bit on the tiled floor. 

"Hi, Newt." Breckin did not know what to say. Newt was standing right in front of him, no glass separating them. He desperately searched for something, anything to talk about. His mind drew a blank. His tongue was tied, and all he could do was allow Newt to examine him.

"For months I wondered what you looked like," Newt said, eyes returning to Breckin's face. 

"I'm not much to look at." Breckin saw Newt's hand rise and stood stone-still as it approached his face. His eyes closed when the warm hand pressed against his cheek. The beating of his heart increased to almost a dangerous speed. Sunshine and warmth flooded his senses. Tears leaked out from under his closed eyelids. His skin was just as soft as he imagined. "You're here," he whispered.

"Yeah. I'm here." Newt caressed one of the scars on his cheek with his thumb.

"I'm not alone."

"No, you're not alone." The hand dropped from his face, but two lean arms slid around his torso, hands coming to rest on his shoulder blades. Breckin sighed quiet and returned the embrace. He placed his hands on Newt's lower back, gently pulling him closer until they were flush with each other. Breathing deeply, Breckin leaned his forehead against Newt's. The heat of his flesh made Breckin smile. 

The rest of the world seemed to melt away. Breckin did not know how long they stood there, but he never wanted to let go. Newt being in his arms felt right, like he was complete or something. Was this how it felt to be with your life partner?

A throat being cleared caught Breckin's attention. His eyes popped open, and he moved his head to the side to glare at the guard. He flashed his middle finger, and the guard frowned. Then he returned to the warmth of Newt, relishing the feel of another body being so close. He could not remember anyone ever holding him like this, ever. Newt tightened his grip for a moment longer before letting go. Breckin reluctantly dropped his arms and backed away a step. 

"Am - Am I what you expected?" Breckin asked timidly.

Newt's pale lips curved up in smile. "You're better than I imagined," he said, and Breckin returned the smile. 

The faint tapping of the nurse typing on his computer could just be heard over Breckin's rapid pulse. "You look amazing without the glass," he said with a small chuckle. "Do you want your jacket back?"

Newt shook his head. "You need it more than I do."

"You have no idea."

It happened before Breckin could blink. 

The guard seemingly flew from his chair - it clattered loudly to the floor - and snatched Newt. With a grunt, the guard threw Newt, who cried out in shock, over his shoulder and rushed out the door. 

Breckin snarled, instantly pissed. 

He heard the door lock behind the fleeing guard.

A pulse of pure rage shook his body. His skin crawled with the now familiar itch of growing hair. The tiled floor was scratched by his nails as he shifted onto all fours. His clothes, always loose on his frame, became tighter as his muscles grew. A growl rumbled up his throat as he felt his transformation nearing completion. The growl morphed into a howl as he charged towards the door. His scream was abruptly cut off at he ran into then bounced off the metal. 

Breckin shook his head to clear the dancing stars. Then he charged again, throwing his entire weight into the attack. His claws barely scratched the surface. Breckin tried a third time, this time whimpering when the door remained locked in place. His mate was just on the other side of that door! He knew it! 

As he backed away for a fourth attempt, the door opened again. Another guard with a large riot shield shoved his way into the room. Breckin growled at him, and the guard held a taser in the air. "Back up!" the guard commanded.

Breckin curled his lip at the guard. He didn't want to listen to this overstuffed meat-sack. He wanted Newt, now. He backed away from the door, shuffling his broadened hands on the tiles. The guard moved forward. Breckin snarled loudly when the guard who took Newt followed him into the room. Both of them stepped to the side, and Newt was shoved back into the room.

"Fuckin' bloody cunts," he cursed, then his voice faded away when he saw Breckin, who was backing away, desperately wanting to get out of his monster skin. The blond teen stared with wide dark eyes. Breckin finally reached the back of the room and shuffled into the far corner. "Y-You weren't kidding, ab-about the transformation."

Breckin curled into a ball, eyes dropping from Newt's shocked face to the floor. Newt will most likely turn and run away any moment now. The first time Breckin got to see Newt without a mirror, and he scared him away. 

Footsteps that barely made a sound slowly approached him. 

"I don't think that's a good idea, kid," said one of the guards. "He's an animal."

"His brain is bloody human," Newt insisted angrily. "Breckin, are you still with me?"

Breckin uncurled a bit to look up at Newt then managed a tiny nod. 

Newt smiled a very small smile; Breckin could smell a trace of fear coming from him. He slowly got to his feet and slouched his heavy shoulders so he was eye-level with his mate. Breckin leaned forward a bit, hands falling to his sides. His now barrel-like chest stretched the jacket with every breath. Newt raised a trembling hand until he could cup Breckin's cheek. "You're bloody fluffy," he commented.

Breckin rolled his eyes and snorted. 

"He bites you, kid, we'll have to put him down."

"He's not going to bite me. Bugger off!" Newt flashed a glare over his shoulder at the guard with the riot shield. "Fuck," he muttered.

Breckin grumble agreement. 

Newt turned his dark eyes back to him. "Can you change back?"

Closing his eyes, Breckin concentrated on Newt's sunshine scent. He exhaled slowly, then felt the weird chilly sensation of the hair falling off his body.

"You didn't tell me you bloody shed."

Breckin's muscles receded, and soon he had returned to his human skin. "It happens," he said hoarsely as his claws fell off and were replaced. Newt watched, face twisted in disgust and curiosity.

"Does it hurt?"

"I've been through worse." Breckin dragged his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were back to normal. "Way worse," he added quietly. Then he glanced at the nurse; he had completely forgotten about him. The nurse was cowering behind his computer, eyes wide. He was muttering "I'm not paid enough." under his breath. "Why the hell did you have him taken?"

The nurse cleared his throat; Breckin could see that he was trying not to shit himself. "It was an experiment, to see how you would react if Newt was forcefully removed from your side."

"I thought it was already established that I would go berserk," Breckin growled, narrowing his eyes at the nurse.

"This was your first physical encounter with your mate, and the doctors wanted results."

"Would the doctors get results if I ripped the guard's fucking head off?"

The nurse gulped. 

Breckin moved forward, now fully shed, and once again slid his arms around Newt. The blond was quick to return the embrace. A part of Breckin's brain seemed to be buzzing with contentment as they held each other. 

"How are you feeling, Newt?" asked the nurse, looking back at his computer. "Scared? Excited?"

"Annoyed, actually," New responded in a gruff tone. "You keep talking."

The nurse huffed in annoyance, and Breckin chuckled quietly. "Such a feisty mate," he murmured to himself. He felt Newt smile against his neck.  
"I need an analysis on your emotions, for research purposes," the nurse said.

Newt huffed quietly; his warm breath on his neck sent a rush of emotions through Breckin. "Calm," he finally responded. "I feel calm. And happy, I guess, 'cause I finally see Breckin face-to-face."

"Any anxiety over what he is?"

"Not really." One of Newt's hands trailed up Breckin's back to settle on his neck, long fingers toying with the hair they found there. "He can't help what you arses did to him." 

The nurse typed away on his computer. 

Breckin gave Newt a slight squeeze then released him. His eyes scanned over Newt's pale face. "English, sassy, and beautiful." Newt's cheeks darkened with a blush at Breckin's compliment. "You're perfect."

"Far from perfect, Breckin."

"Not in my eyes," Breckin replied, smiling. 

The lock on the door was activated, and the door swung open. Dr. Paige waltzed into the room with Dimitri and a few men wearing expensive-looking suits in tow. "Hello, boys."

Breckin grumbled, and Newt turned around to face the head of his part of the facility. "Hello, Doctor Paige," he said with an edge to his tone. Breckin only grunted a greeting, stepping forward to rest his chin on Newt's shoulder. For some odd reason he could not stop touching him. Breckin blamed it on the serum.

"Have they been getting along?" Dr. Paige asked the nurse, who nodded.

"All was well until Agent Hinks removed Newton from the room. A13 -" Breckin scoffed at his label. "- managed to transform flawlessly, then reverted back to normal when Newton was returned." 

"Very good. A13, how are you feeling?"

"Annoyed," he growled. "I don't know how long you're going to let me see Newt, and you're butting into that time." 

A man with dark skin and shiny black hair took a step forward. "How do you feel when you are near Newton?" he asked in a polite but business-like tone.

"Complete," Breckin said honestly.

"Do you believe you could live alongside Newton without causing him any harm?"

Breckin's mouth dropped open in shock. "Why the hell would I hurt him?" He slid an arm around Newt's waist and held him to his chest. Newt leaned back against him. "I may be a monster, but I do have control over my actions. I knew when I was fighting the Grievers. I knew when I had attacked those guards. The serum may have jacked with my DNA, but my brain stays relatively human when I am in the monster skin." He paused for a moment to breathe in Newt's sunshine smell. "There is no way in the nine circles of Hell that I would even think about hurting him."

"Someone's been reading 'Dante's Inferno,'" Newt muttered with a small laugh.

"Hush you," Breckin scolded gently. "It's a good read."

"Mm. Very good read." Newt turned back to the group. "Was this all an experiment? Having us meet and talk face-to-face."

"But of course," said Dr. Paige with a small smile. "We needed to study the reactions between the two of you."

"Do you think she was an experiment that went wrong?" Breckin whispered in Newt's ear. His mate coughed on a laugh. Louder, he asked, "Am I going to be allowed in with the other boys now?"

"If it were up to me, I'd say yes. But Doctor Reed oversees your progress, and he has already said no to the idea. He still believes you could be overwhelmed, A13. That your... monster skin could be triggered, and you could attack the others. And there is one thing I can agree on with Doctor Reed: we have invested too much time and money for everything to fail now. We are only looking out for your best interest," Dr. Paige added when Breckin scowled at her.

"Then will I be allowed to see Breckin on this side of the mirror?" asked Newt.

"We shall have to see. That all depends on how well you boys behave. Oh, I forgot to ask. How are you taking this, Newton? Does it seem concerning to you?"

"At first, yes, but now, no. I know Breckin can not control the part of his brain that recognizes me as his mate. It is beyond the wall he has in place. The idea petrified me at first. I had never seen Breckin before in my bloody life, and yet... something about him is familiar, kind of like I should know him." Newt paused before continuing, "It's an unusual feeling, but not unpleasant."

"Such big words," Breckin joked in Newt's ear, which earned him a slight jab in the gut with an elbow.

There was a hushed murmur from the group, then the same man as before spoke, "Newton, does the thought of having a monster as a life partner terrify you?"

"Breckin is not a monster on his own. You made him that way. But the answer is no."

The door slamming open almost drowned out the end of Newt's answer. Doctor Reed marched into the room, face red from either running or anger. Breckin guessed it was a bit of both.

"What is the meaning of this?" the doctor demanded as the door shut behind him. "I specifically told you and your assistants I did not want A13 to meet him!" He glared at Dr. Paige. "Explain yourself!"

Newt pressed back against Breckin, and the two of them backed away from the enraged doctor. "What the bloody hell is going on?" Newt whispered to him, and Breckin muttered, "I don't know."

"This is a controlled experiment." Dr. Paige reached into her lab coat and withdrew a folded piece of paper. "I have the authority from our supervisors to do this."

Reed snatched the paper from her. "What?" He quickly read over whatever was on the paper. "And just what exactly is this?"

"An experiment," Dr. Paige repeated. "We are studying the reactions of A13 and Newton. This meeting is the first time they are physically near each other, without a mirrored wall to separate them. As you know very well, they have been keeping contact with each other over the past half a year, first through knocks, then paper, and finally with radios provided to them." Breckin growled at her when she turned her gaze to them. "See how protective A13 has become? His mate is here, and he will do anything to protect him."

"A13 is not homosexual!" Reed crowed. "There must have been a mistake in the serum. We can look at the sequence and isolate the negative -"

"Are you implying you made a mistake with the A.M. serum, doctor?" asked the man from earlier.

Reed blanched. "Th-That's not what I meant at all. You see, we never had A13 introduced to females his age. The first person he met was Newton, so his brain must have chose him based on that. If we were to allow a female to meet with him, there is a possibility he will mate with her. It's only natural for a male to take a female mate. And Newton is definitely not a female."

"Can't deny this cock," Newt muttered. Breckin buried his face in Newt's neck to stifle his chuckle. 

"A13?"

Breckin raised his head to look at the man. "Yes, sir?"

"Do you believe being introduced to a female will change your mind about Newton being your life partner?"

"I doubt it," said Breckin. "My mind recognizes Newt as my mate. No one else."

"B-But he will never be able to procreate! His DNA could be passed down, and there could be a whole new Flare-resistant generation."

"Do you honestly want a bunch of little A13s running around this place?" Breckin glared at Reed over Newt's shoulder. "Sounds like a complete nightmare, if you ask me. I'm not going to have a female mate. I don't want a female mate. All I need is right here in my arms."

"Sap."

"Shut it, tea-lover."

Newt scoffed with fake offense.

"This is unprecedented! I will go to the highest authority and have this charade stopped. A13 needs to be returned to his dorm immediately and kept there!" Spittle spun from Reed's mouth as he ranted. "His mate will be a female! I believe our supervisor will agree with me!"

Breckin had heard enough. "Hey, Doctor Dick!"

Reed spun around and glared at him.

"Watch this shit." Breckin gently but swiftly spun Newt around, his socks making the task easier. He offered Newt a small smile before cupping his face and guiding him into a kiss.

"What - A13!"

Breckin ignored the rantings of the lunatic scientist. Instead, he focused on the softness of Newt's mouth. He watched as the blond's eyes widened for a fraction of a second then closed, sandy eyelashes fluttering. Breckin sighed quietly when he moved away a moment later. He rested his forehead against Newt's. He opened his eyes, and Breckin was soon lost in his dark gaze. "Partners?" he asked in a whisper.

"Like you have to bloody ask," Newt whispered back with a smirk.

"This experiment has gone on long enough," Reed announced. Breckin glanced over to see the doctor marching towards them. "Separate now!"

Breckin growled and stepped away from Newt's side. "Stay back," he warned, moving quickly to put himself between Newt and the lunatic.   
Reed did not stop. As he came closer and closer, Breckin was starting feel the unpleasant itch again. He allowed the change to happen, much quicker this time. Crouching down in front of Newt, Breckin snarled a challenge to Reed. The doctor stopped dead and reached into his pant pocket. "Stop this nonsense, A13," he demanded, withdrawing a plastic square. Breckin knew in an instant what it was. He slowly stood from his crouch. "Come here now!"

Breckin glanced back at Newt. His mate was confused - his eyebrows were furrowed and he was frowning - and scared - he was trembling. His first actual meeting with Newt was definitely not going the way he had planned. Breckin turned back to the doctor and shook his head. 

"A13, final warning."

Gulping, Breckin again shook his head. Then he closed his eyes.

It was sudden. 

A raw, burning pain consumed his body like the flames of Hades themselves. His muscles clenched, making him curl in on himself. Bones popped as his limbs were contorted into painful positions. A scream of pure pain seemingly made his throat explode. Faintly he could hear Newt demanding what was happening then pleading for his pain to stop. Another voice shouted at Newt to shut up. A third and a fourth were commanding the man to cease the shock. The door slammed open then shut as someone raced out of the room. 

Breckin's scream echoed and re-echoed in his ears, deafening him to other noises. He fell heavily to the floor with a loud smack. His body felt like it had been tossed into a vat of lava. Breckin could almost smell the burning hair and flesh. His scream was cut off a hed gagged on the phantom smell. He just wanted to die. Just wanted the pain to stop. 

And then it did.

A thick layer of sweat had replaced the long hair on his body. Muscles twitched, and lungs burned with every pant for air. Breckin shivered as the cold from the floor managed to squeeze through the jacket and the tight muscle to his bones. He slowly became aware of someone kneeling beside him. A hand was on his shoulder, gently shaking him. Breckin opened his eyes just enough to see a mess of blond hair and two dark orbs hovering above him. 

"... eckin!... Becin!... Way up!... Wake up, Breckin!" 

Newt's voice managed to penetrate the thick fog clouding Breckin's brain. He blinked then, grunting with effort, forced himself to turn his head a bit to look up at his mate. His lips quirked up in the tiniest of smiles before his head dropped back onto the tile. Fuck. He hurt. He hurt bad.

"Have you gone insane, doctor?" a voice screeched.

Breckin opened his eyes again and tried to focus on the fuzzy group on the other side of the room.

"Are you trying to kill him, just because his mate was not someone you wanted?"

"He needs a female mate!"

"Obviously he has chosen."

"Stay out of this, Ava!"

As the blurs argued, Breckin became aware that his head was no longer on the cold tile floor. Someone had gently placed him on a warm lap. Sunshine seeped into his nose, and he sneezed quietly. A hand carefully stroked his hair. Soft murmured caught his attention.

"It's okay. It's over. You'll be okay," the voice said in a hushed tone. 

Breckin sighed, then physically forced his body to relax. His muscles still twitched, but the pain was starting to dull. He knew it would not last all day, but right now... Fuck. Breckin slowly brought a trembling hand to rest on a bent knee. His fingers twitched. "Ow," he breathed.

Newt's hand paused, and Breckin managed a hum, though his throat felt like it had been ripped out. "You'll be okay, Breckin," he whispered. "I know you're strong."

Breckin's body moved almost without his consent. It slowly twisted to the side until his back was against the floor and he could look up at his mate through slit eyes. "I hurt," he whispered.

"I know, love." If Breckin had not felt like shit, he probably would have blushed from the pet-name. "But you're strong. I know you're strong." Newt gave a humorless laugh only Breckin could hear. "This meeting is not going the way I thought it would."

Breckin's mouth twitched in a little smile. He closed his eyes as Newt resumed gently stroking his sweaty hair. 

"I thought we'd meet and talk without all this shite," Newt continued quietly. "Just you and me, like normal. Not with these bloody bastards in the room with us." He sighed.

Breckin carefully raised a twitching hand to touch the side of Newt's face. His arm felt heavy, but he pushed through it just to touch him. His thumb spasmed a bit as he stroked his warm cheek. Newt murmured something under his breath. "Mates?" Breckin asked again.

Newt's free hand rose to carefully rest on top of Breckin's. His palm was warm and soft. "Mates," he agreed with a small smile.

The door burst open again. Breckin's body tried to jolt from the sudden noise. The pain and Newt's reassuring touch kept him in place. There was a rush of footsteps, and Reed let out a curse of rage. Breckin turned his head to see what was going on.

Another guard had charged into the room and was holding down Reed, who was writhing like a legless Griever on the ground. His face was deep purple-red, and he was screaming profanities. Dr. Paige was standing against the wall with the group, eyes narrowed, a triumphant smirk on her face. The guard yanked Reed to his feet, grunting loudly as the doctor fought against his hold. 

Breckin watched through half-lidded eyes as Reed was dragged, kicking and screaming, from the room. When the door shut behind them, silence fell upon the room. He sighed quietly and again stroked Newt's cheek with his thumb. 

"Now that he has been handled, we shall allow the boys five more minutes." Dr. Paige's eyes drifted over to Breckin and Newt. "They deserve to see each other without any more interruptions." She motioned to the door. "Shall we, gentlemen?" Flashing a smile at the boys, she led the others out of the room. The last to leave with the nurse pushing the cart with the computer. Without the others' murmurs echoing off the walls, it was rather peaceful. 

"About bloody time," Newt muttered.

Breckin blinked then returned his gaze to his mate's face. There was a frown tugging down his pale lips. "Newt," he whispered.

Dark eyes looked down at him. "Breckin." The way he said his name sent a thrill through Breckin's aching body. "Are you okay, love?"

"I could sleep a month."

"What happened? It was like he shot you with lightning or something."

Breckin cleared his throat. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "Dim-Dimitri said Reed had a chip placed in-in my body somewhere. It shocks me when ac-activated with a remote."

"That's inhumane!"

"I know." Breckin closed his eyes as Newt once again started to stroke his hair. "Feels good... Tired."

"You've changed forms twice, then you were barbecued in less than ten minutes. It wouldn't surprise me at all if you slept for a month."

Breckin offered a small smile. "Hm," he hummed.

"What do you think will happen to you now?"

"Not sure. Dick Reed was the head of my side of the glass. If the guard took him away, then he may not come back. Some other fucker will probably take over experimenting on me."

"Perhaps they will allow us to see each other again."

"Mm. I hope so." Breckin's hand dropped from Newt's face to the floor. With a groan, he forced his body into a sitting position; he felt Newt's hands on his back helping him. He shot out a hand to catch himself when he felt his body leaned too far forward. His palm slammed painfully against the floor, but at least he was up. Newt was by his side almost instantly, pressing their sides together. Breckin relished in the warmth Newt seemed to give off. "Thanks. I'm glad you're here."

"It's a lot better than talking and showing a notebook to my own reflection." 

Breckin let out a quiet laugh, then he frowned. "I'm sorry you have to be my mate."

"Why so melancholy?"

"I'm a monster, Newt. You've seen it. It's not fair to you -"

Newt interrupted him. "I don't care." Breckin turned his head and met calm dark eyes. "So you have issues. Who doesn't?"

"But I'm a monster -"

"You're not a monster, Breckin." Newt leaned his head on his shoulder. "You never were." 

Breckin hummed quietly, closing his eyes, resting his head against Newt's. They sat there in silence until the door opened, and Breckin opened one eye to glare at whomever was interrupting them now. Dr. Paige and a guard approached them; Breckin gave a warning growl.

"Time's up, boys." Dr. Paige smiled, but Breckin felt it was not real. "Did you enjoy your time together?"

"It wasn't long enough," Newt grumbled. Breckin sighed quietly and nuzzled his mate's soft blond hair. "Just five more minutes?"

"I'm afraid I can not allow that, Newton. Breckin must be returned to his dormitory."

Both boys growled curses under their breath, but Newt helped Breckin to his feet. Breckin wavered but did not fall. His muscles still ached like crazy. Newt's dark eyes searched his face as the boys stood in front of each other. Then he held up his right hand, palm towards Breckin. A small smile curved his lips as Breckin brought up his own hand and pressed their palms together. Heat bled into Breckin at the simple touch.

Newt smiled at him. "You're not alone anymore, Breckin," he whispered. 

"I'm glad," Breckin murmured back. "I'll see you again as soon as I can."


	9. The Swipe

Time passed, and Breckin was still suffering from depression. Nothing enthused him any more. The fights against the Grievers were the only things that brought him excitement, and that was just because of the adrenaline. New scars had created zigzags on his pale skin. When he was not in the arena, Breckin moped around in his dormitory. Dimitri had long given up trying to bring cheer to his life; the nurse had even managed to sneak in a battery-powered radio and some CDs. Breckin did listen to them, but now there was no soul in the music. 

Each week was the same.

Each day faded into another.

Rinse and repeat.

Dreams were the only escape from reality, and even they were few and far between. But every single one was about the same person.

His mate.

Newt.

It hurt Breckin's heart just thinking about him.

That day they met face-to-face was the first and last time Breckin held him. For weeks, he would sit at the mirror wall with the walkie-talkie in hand, waiting for his blond to come to him. 

He never showed up.

Breckin would sit at the wall for hours, wondering if he really scared Newt away. He had said he accepted him, even if he was a monster, so why was he suddenly being shy? Had he lied? Was he really scared of him? Breckin waited for the opportunity to apologize, but it never came.   
He fell deeper into depression. So low, in fact, that he let a Griever defeat him in the arena. An electric shock session stopped him from doing that again. He tried talking to Dimitri about Newt and his whereabouts, but the nurse would not tell him anything. That only made Breckin's mood worse.

"How are you today, Breckin?"

He slowly lifted his head to look at the two nurses setting up their equipment on the table. He was curled in a ball on the sofa, arms wrapped around his legs. He had on Newt's jacket, which was starting to get loose and frayed with age. It stopped smelling like sunshine a long time ago, but Breckin fooled himself into thinking the scent was still there when he put it on. "Fine," he muttered.

"You are not fine." Dimitri walked over to him with a thermometer in his hand. "Temperature." 

Breckin sighed quietly as the nurse stuck the instrument in his ear. A little beep signaled the thing had done its job. 

"Normal," Dimitri said to his assistant. "What is wrong, Breckin?"

"Nothing."

"Is not nothing. You are depressed."

Breckin returned his chin to his knees. Everybody could fucking see he was depressed. The animal side of him was crying out for his mate. He had heard talk from the scientists that being away from Newt would cause his sanity to fracture then ultimately disappear. They prevented that by giving him sedatives. He could still feel the phantom needle pricks.

"You don't say," Breckin muttered with a hint of sarcasm.

"Do you want talk about it?"

He shook his head.

"It will help."

"No, it won't." Breckin sighed quietly. "Nothing helps."

"Try."

Breckin lifted his head and glared at the nurse. "Do you know how old I am?"

"You turned eighteen two months - "

"Yes! I'm eighteen, and do you know what that means?"

"You are now adult?"

"Besides. That."

Dimitri shared a look with his assistant, and for some odd reason Breckin knew that they knew exactly what he was getting at. 

"It's been two years!" Breckin snarled. "Two fucking years! I have spent hours, days, months just waiting and waiting! And waiting! But no one will give me any fucking answers!" Dimitri started to back away as Breckin uncurled and got to his bare feet. "What happened to him?!"

Dimitri's dark eyes widened. "I-I don - "

"Like hell you don't know!" Breckin shouted. "I haven't seen him in two damned years! Did you bastards think I would forget? That he would be shoved to the back of my mind?" Breckin paused. The anger rushing through his veins was quickly cooled. Depression once again overpowered him. A tear fell down his cheek. Then another and another. "Where is he? Where did they take him?"

"W-We can not say," Dimitri replied.

Breckin closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath to calm his nerves. If he did not keep his anger reined in, his monster skin would take over. He was pissed at Dimitri, sure, but he did not want to kill him. "Then..." Breckin paused to clear his throat. "Can you tell me if he's still alive?" He narrowed his eyes. "You owe me that much."

"He is alive."

His eyes flew open. His heart started to fiercely race. "He-He is?"

"Yes." Dimitri glanced at his assistant and nodded slightly. The woman rushed to the computer and started typing. Breckin followed her with his eyes, then turned back to Dimitri when he spoke. "He is alive," he repeated. "Research is needed. Newton - " Breckin sucked in a breath through his teeth. " - is with others. Doctor Paige and Doctor Jansen have been studying them."

"He's alive," Breckin whispered.

Dimitri nodded, a small smile on his face now that Breckin had calmed a bit. "He is alive," he reassured him again. "If allowed, you will see him again."

Breckin perked up, eyes widening as he stared in slight disbelief. "I-I can?"

"Yes, but we must wait for permission. Seeing him without will cause great anger with higher ups."

Breckin's heart picked up its pace again. The computer the assistant had been typing on beeped, almost making him jump. He turned to look over at her, but she was staring at Dimitri, nodding her head. Breckin was confused. What was going on?

"You have permission."

Breckin's mouth dropped open in surprise. "R-Really?"

"Yes." Dimitri bustled over to the sheet separating Breckin's room from the rest of his dorm. "Come, Breckin! We must have you dress nice." Dimitri poked his head out and smiled at Breckin, who hurried over to him. 

Less then five minutes later, Breckin, for the first time in twelve years, was wearing something other than scrubs: dark blue jeans and a red shirt that was just a bit tight. His feet were actually clothed in a pair of pristine white socks that went up to just over his ankles. He took a whole minute to just admire and play around in the socks, sliding across the tiled floor, marveling at the softness. There was no chill from the floor as he stepped out of his room. 

Dimitri was standing by his assistant, face glowing bright with pride, dark eyes scanning approvingly over Breckin's new clothes. "Very nice, Breckin." His arms were behind his back. "Now you need these." He brought his hands forward. Breckin's eyes widened when he saw what Dimitri had been hiding from him: a pair of black sneakers with red! laces. "For you."

Breckin took them slowly, unsure if this was a joke or something. After spending at least two minutes inspecting them, Breckin put them on; Dimitri had to show him how to tie the laces because he had long forgotten how. 

"Now, come, Breckin," said Dimitri with a wide smile. "Your mate - " Breckin's heart started pounding loudly. " - is waiting to see you."

Breckin tried to contain his excitement as Dimitri and the assistant led him out of his dorm and down a maze of hallways. As they walked, Breckin's excitement started to fade into uncertainty. Would Newt remember him? Did he still want to be mates with him? Where were they taking him? Breckin had never been to this part of the facility before. There were more scientists here, walking with clipboards and sitting at desks behind walls of glass, and Breckin was starting to feel a bit uneasy. 

Whispers and beeps seemed to surround him, echoing off the walls. Breckin noticed a lot of the scientists would glance at him, as if studying him out of the corner of their eye. He growled under his breath. Squaring his shoulders, he made himself appear taller and walked as if with purpose.  
Dimitri suddenly stopped and used his ID to open a heavy-looking metal door. A loud clack hurt Breckin's ears, then the door opened. Dimitri and his assistant walked through the doorway with Breckin right behind them. The door shut with a heavy thud. His eyes snapped this way and that, taking in the room. 

A strange monitor took up most of the wall closest to him. Words were appearing as he watched: his name, experiment name, age... Almost all of his personal information was being displayed for all the scientists to see. He grumbled about that. Something sparkling caught his eye. On the wall opposite were three strange cylinders connected to the floor and ceiling. Large hoses and wires were hooked up to them. Breckin backed away a bit, losing his composure and feeling unsure. 

Dr. Paige appeared through a doorway next to the wall monitor. She seemed to have aged a bit since the last time he had seen her: wrinkles were starting to form at the corners of her eyes and a few grey hairs flashed among the blond. "Welcome, A13."

Breckin narrowed his eyes. "Hi."

"Do you know why you are here?"

"Dimitri said I am going to see Newt," he replied.

Doctor Paige smiled, but there was something about it Breckin did not like. "Yes, you are." She motioned to Dimitri and his assistant. "Are his vitals normal?"

"Normal as can be," Dimitri said, handing her a piece of paper from his clipboard. "Only concern is depression."

"He will forget about being depressed soon." 

Breckin felt a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. How can he forget something he had felt for years?

"A13."

He looked back at Doctor Paige. 

"Are you ready to see your mate?"

Even though he felt unsure, Breckin nodded anyway. 

Dimitri stepped forward with a syringe filled with clear liquid. He did the standard count to three before injecting the liquid into Breckin's inner elbow. He winced a bit as a burning spread throughout his body. It didn't last long; dissipating within moments. "You will be okay."

What did he mean by that?

"Please step into the middle tube." As Doctor Paige spoke the glass door to the cylinder opened with a strange hiss. There was a rush of cold air, and Breckin shivered. "Now, A13, if you want to be with Newt."

Breckin's new sneakers squeaked as he shuffled to the cylinder. He really did not want to get in their creepy tube, but the desire to be with Newt again was too strong to ignore. Breckin stepped in, quickly noticing the air inside the tube was colder than the air in the room. The floor was not entirely a solid surface; it was a metal grate. He turned around and came face-to-face with his nurse. Dimitri's dark eyes were glittering with tears. 

"You must be good, Breckin." He reached out a hand and affectionately ruffled Breckin's hair. "Be strong."

Doctor Paige appeared next to Dimitri. "A13, you must remember: WICKED is good." She and Dimitri backed away, and the glass door swung closed. There was a weird suction sound, as if the door had been sealed into place.

A gushing noise, like water rushing through a pipe, caught his attention. Breckin glanced around to see where it was coming from. Then he felt something soaking his new shoes. He looked down. Translucent blue liquid was gurgling up through the slats in the grate. 

"Woah! Hey!" Breckin slammed his open palms against the door. "Hey! There's water coming in!" Dimitri appeared on the other side of the glass, and Breckin pleaded with him to let him out. "Please, Dimitri! You promised I'd be okay! Let me out! Dimitri!" Breckin pounded on the door with closed fists, but the glass would not break. He tried to summon his monster skin. No itching of hair growing. No pain in his face or mouth. No nail growth.

That serum Dimitri gave him must have stopped his transformations!

"Fuck you! Fuck you all!" Breckin screamed as the water lapped at his knees. "Shit!" He backed away from the door, but was met with the metal of the cylinder. Growling, he tried to climb up the wall using sheer will. He was unsuccessful, and his fingertips squealed against the metal as he slid down. "Please!" he cried, tears now streaming down his face. "Let me out! I don't know what I did to deserve this! Dimitri!" The water rose at a rapid pace, filling the cylinder up to Breckin's chest. His body started to float a bit. "D-Dimitri!" The water was at his chin. Breckin coughed as some splashed into his mouth. "N-No!" Once more he tried to climb out of the liquid, but it was in vain. There was no where to go! "Hel - " His cry was cut off as the water finally covered his head. His last breath was wasted on a summons that would not be answered. His lungs burned, as if he had consumed a raging fire. A pressure built in his head. Breckin tried with all his might not to breathe. 

He failed.

His lungs were flooded with liquid when he opened his mouth. 

A strange peace washed over him. And, for the briefest moment, he thought he could smell the warmth and comfort of sunshine. His mouth twitched in a soft smile.

Newt.

Newt was there to take him to the afterlife.

Darkness engulfed Breckin's vision, and he knew no more.


	10. The Greenie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has not been abandoned. My kid uses my computer for homeschooling activities, so it's a bit harder to write and post chapters on a regular basis. 
> 
> Thanks to you all for the comments and kudos. They are all appreciated. :3

Water droplets spun from his hair as he shook his head. His eyes would not adjust to the shadows, no matter how many times he blinked. He had no idea where he was. He felt around. Metal. A metal floor. 

A sharp pain erupted in his head, and a cry fell from his lips. 

His blunt nails dug into his scalp.

Suddenly air started to rush past him. He felt the metal whatever start to ascend. The speed forced him down to the floor. A red light flashed past, illuminating everything for a few moments. Then another red light. It happened in intervals, but the flashing was giving him a headache. 

In the brief moments of light, he saw he was in some sort of metal cage. Just barely, he could make out wooden crates all around him. What was in them, he did not know, nor did he care. Something squealed in one of them, and he growled back. The animal - he assumed it was an animal - fell silent. 

Where was this thing taking him?

Was this the end of him?

The sound of metal scraping against concrete hurt his ears. 

Then it stopped. 

Inertia made his body bump aggressively against the floor. He growled in annoyance and pain at the darkness.

A green light blinded him, and a loud buzzing hum shot through the stuffy air. 

He got to his feet but bent his knees in a crouch. 

The buzzing stopped, but a loud grinding sound of concrete being dragged against metal replaced it. A strip of light momentarily blinded him. He blinked rapidly until his sight was better. The light grew as the ceiling broke into two pieces and slid apart, vanishing into the sides of the tunnel. A roof made from the same metal mesh as the floor was made visible. Then the light was cut off by at least fifteen silhouettes. He growled up at them.

"What the shuck was that?"

Two of the shadows knelt down, and the roof was revealed to be two doors. They were opened with haste. When they were opened enough, he scrambled out of the cage, gripping handfuls of grass and clogging the underside of his nails with dirt. A chorus of shouts met his ears as he hauled himself over the edge and quickly got to his feet. 

Teenage males, a whole group of them. All wearing expressions of amusement or mild annoyance. Their clothes were dirty as if they had not been properly washed in quite some time. None of the them looked unscathed: many bore visible scars and bruises.

Who were they?

Were they going to kill him?

He whipped around, glaring at them. Another growl escaped his lips. 

One of the boys stepped forward. He was taller than him with bright blond hair and light blue eyes. Muscles bulged as he crossed his arms. The way he stood... He held a lot of authority. "What's up, greenie?"

He narrowed his eyes. What the hell is a greenie?

"Usually when someone asks you a question, you answer," the taller teen said, smile sliding into a frown. He glanced at the others. "Empty the Box. Maybe they sent those nails we requested." He looked at him and motioned with his head for him to follow. 

He narrowed his eyes but decided to follow him away from the box and the curious group of teenagers. Once free from the mass of bodies, he looked around. They were standing in what seemed to be the middle of a field. Tall grasses waved in a breeze that stank of stone. Speaking of which... He spun in a circle. On all four sides were extremely tall walls made of either concrete, stone, or a mixture of both. Each had a gap maybe twenty feet wide. Thick vines were in some spots, stubbornly clinging to the sheer faces.

Each corner of the stone box seemed to hold something different.

In one corner was a mass of trees. The leaves rustled, and the shadows looked inviting. He felt an urge to race over there, but, judging by the look the blond teen was giving him, he knew that would not be the right thing to do. Directly diagonal to the forest was something that resembled a crude but neatly kept garden. More teenagers were tending to the plants, bent backs facing the bright sun. 

On the right side of the garden was a large building surrounded by fenced-in yards where several animals were grazing on the green grass. From the colors and sounds that carried on the wind, he guessed they had pigs and chickens, maybe some others animals as well. Diagonal to the pens was another large but run-down building made of stained wood. Several boys were walking in and out of the opened doorway, carrying bundles of something.

"Welcome to the Glade."

He turned to face the taller teenager. 

Glade?

"Name's Nick. I'm the leader around here." The blond looked expectantly at him. "You know your name?"

He stared at the taller teenager with narrowed eyes. His name? Wha- What was his name? Did he have a name?

"Don't remember it, eh?" 

He shook his head, annoyed. How did he remember a ton of words and things, but not his own name?! What was - What was going on?!

"It's alright," Nick reassured him, though there was a glimmer of annoyance in his tone. "You'll remember it sooner or later. None of us could remember our names when we first came to the Glade." He turned away from him and whistled sharply. "Yo, Alby!"

A teenager seemingly popped out of nowhere. He was tall with dark skin, a bald head, and stern eyes. He seemed to have a no-nonsense air about him. His hands were covered in wraps of cloth, as if he had been hurt and the wound had been crudely bandaged. "The new greenie?" he asked. He seemed a lot calmer than Nick. 

"Yes. You mind giving this one the tour? I'd ask Alec, but he's busy with the new lambs."

They had sheep here too?

"I'll handle it." Alby turned his gaze to him. "He got a name?"

"He doesn't know yet," said Nick.

"It'll come to you eventually. Come on." Alby turned and started towards the forest in the corner. 

He followed silently, casting weary glances at the boys they past. Many looked around his age - however old he was - but several seemed younger; their faces were still round with boyhood. Alby exchanged words with those who spoke to him. Within minutes they had reached the edge of the trees. Alby gestured to them with a bandaged hand. "These are the Deadheads."

"Deadheads?" His voice came in a low whisper. It startled him. Was that really what he sounded like? Ugh.

"It's where we bury those... who did not make it," Alby said. "Come on."

He forced himself away from the trees and followed Alby over to the livestock pens. There was the slightest trace of blood in the air, coming from the large wooden structure. A cluster of chickens were pecking at the ground by the sliding door. Several pigs were lazing about in one of the pens, and a small herd of lambs was in another. 

"This is the Blood House."

"Nice name," he commented. 

Alby ignored him. "Animals sent up in the Box are raised and slaughtered there. It is the job of the Slicers to take care of them."

"Slicers?"

"Yeah." Alby nodded. "Every one of us has a task to do around here."

The sliding door to the barn opened, and a boy with wispy brown hair and blue eyes came out. His clothes were wet with blood and something else he did not know. In his muscled arms was a young lamb. Its fearful bleats were quiet. He noticed a cloth had been tied around one of its back legs.

"Everything alright, Alec?"

"They sent us a hurt one," the boy, Alec, explained as he came over to them. "Poor guy's gonna have to be strong to survive." Then his blue eyes found him. "Newbie?"

"Our new greenbean. Doesn't know his name yet, though."

Alec offered him a friendly smile. "Don't worry. It'll come to you."

That seemed to be a common phrase among them. How did they learn their names if they did not remember them at first? Did it just come to them out of the blue? 

He looked at the lamb in Alec's arms. Its dark eyes were staring at him. He slowly reached out and stroked the top of its head. Its wool was soft and clean. "What will happen to him?"

"If his leg does not show any promise of healing, then we can have some lamb chops."

"Sounds kind of harsh to be giving up on it just like that," he commented, thumb rubbing a small circle on its forehead.

"It happens, greenie." Alby glanced at him then turned back to Alec. "I'll be back in while. Gotta finish the tour."

"Have fun." Alec smiled again before heading towards the pen full of lambs.

He fell silent again as Alby led him over to the area where some teens were tending to the garden. Several were working together to tie poles into three-legged structures with bits of cord. All the garden beds looked well taken care of. The plants looked lush. There were hardly any weeds. He noticed some beat-up sleeping bags draped over a pole that was held up by the forks of two more.

"The garden is taken care of by the Track-hoes." Alby pointed to a rather old-fashioned water pump near the edge of one of the larger gardens. "All of our water comes from there. It's clean, but it's recommended that we boil it before using it."

"Does it ever run out?"

Alby shook his head. "Not that we know of. It's always worked." He waited for him to ask another question. When he didn't, Alby continued, "It doesn't rain here for some reason, so its our only source of water. We try not to waste it." He started to walk away, and he quickly followed him, not liking the stares he was receiving from some of the others. Alby led him towards the large bungalow-looking house. 

"This is the Homestead. It's where we eat, sleep, relax. Our home." There was a prideful gleam in Alby's eyes, he noticed. "It was just a shack when we arrived here. Built it up ourselves the best we could." He went through the opened doorway. 

The shade the home provided was welcoming. He looked around. It was a large room that was pretty bare except for a few crudely made wooden benches, most likely for resting. There was a closed door that possibly led to another room. A rickety staircase had been build into the right side of the room, leading to an upper level. He wondered what was up there, but Alby turned away from the stairs and went through another door. This room was larger and fuller than the last. Long tables stretched almost the entire length of the room with wooden chairs that were haphazardly shoved under them. A long counter separated the room from another space. 

Beyond the counter was another teenager with dark skin and a head full of tight curls. He turned to them when they approached, and smiled widely. "Hello, hello!" he greeted them, a knife in one hand and a potato in the other. His clothes looked a lot cleaner compared to the others.

"Soup on, Frypan?" asked Alby, returning the smile.

"No soup today, I'm afraid. But I'm workin' on something real good." He turned his eyes to him. "Hello, greenbean."

"Hi."

The teen - Frypan - set down his knife and potato then hastily wiped his hands on the apron that was tied around his waist. "Name's Siggy," he said, extending a hand, "but you can just call me Frypan. I love to cook, see?"

He shook his hand. 

"You likin' the tour so far?" asked Frypan as he picked up the knife and potato again. 

"It's... been nice," he said, "though everyone seems to have a staring problem."

"Ah. That's just 'cause you're the new greenbean," said Frypan. "Those boys get excited whenever someone new comes up in the Box."

"Does it happen often?"

"Once a month."

"Who sends it up?"

Frypan shrugged. "No one knows, but whoever they are seems to know if we need one thing or another."

"Strange," he breathed. He turned to Alby, who was leaning against the counter. "What about that building by the Box. It was made of concrete, not wood."

"You're more observant than others. It's the Map Room. No one's allowed there except for the Runners."

"Runners?"

Frypan answered him. "Crazy shucks. They're fast, faster than most others here. They go into the maze, then come back and try to draw thier routes in the Map Room." He glanced up from dicing his potato. "It's a dangerous job."

"What's the maze?" he asked.

Alby gestured towards a window. It gave a view of one of the stone walls. From here, he could see the moss and vines growing on it. "That. Beyond the walls is a giant maze." He looked at him. "The Runners are the only ones allowed in there."

He stared at the stone wall. "Why do they run it?"

"To look for a way out." Alby slapped his hands against the counter before shoving off of it. "Well, come on, greenie, tour's almost done."

He said a quiet good-bye to Frypan, who returned it with a wide smile and a "See ya later!" His head was starting to spin as they left the eating room and went up the stairs. That part scared him the most, because he felt like he was going to fall through on every other step. The second story was just one large room, but there were more support beams. Hanging from these were hammocks made of dirty cloth. In the corner closest to the stairs was a section of wall that had been fashioned into multiple cubbies. Each had a name crudely carved over it, though some of the names had been crossed out and a new name was very near it. 

"This is where we sleep," Alby explained unnecessarily, "but since there are more of us than hammocks, some choose to sleep outside in the garden."

"That's why there were sleeping bags hanging up out there."

"Very observant."

"So do I have a hammock or...?"

Alby shook his head. "We'll have to find you somewhere else to sleep."

He shrugged. "That's okay." He didn't want to be surrounded by so many people. For some reason being around others made him uncomfortable, like he wasn't used to it. "I'll find some place."

Alby nodded. "There's just a bit more to see, then you can relax for a while." He led the way back down the stairs and out the door. They went around the corner. "We have rules around here, greenie. First, do not go outside the Glade. Only Runners are allowed. Second, do not hurt another Glader. We are all we have so we need to trust each other." Alby paused for a moment, looking at him. "Third, we all have a job to do. There is much to do here, and we can not afford to slack off."

He nodded. "And if someone were to break these rules..?"

"Depends on what they did. Usually we place the offender in the Slammer." Alby stepped around to the backside of the Homestead. A small enclosure made from limbs and vines created a dome over a shallow pit. It looked very secure. No one would be able to get out, unless they were really strong or somehow dug their way out.

He walked up to it and gave one of the vines a shake. It didn't move. "Woah." He turned back to Alby. "What happens if someone does something that even time in Slammer would not fix?"

Alby glanced away for a moment. "They are banished. We force them into the maze. What happens after is unknown. We assume the Grievers eat them."

"Grievers?"

"That's what we call them. No one has seen one before though."

He cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Then how do you know they're there?"

"We can hear them in the maze at night," Alby explained. He turned away from the slammer. "Over there is the Watchtower." He pointed across the Glade to a tall tower that seemed to have been crudely put together, just like the Homestead, by the Deadheads. He had not noticed it earlier. "Each night a Bagger stays up there to watch over the Glade. We've never had a Greiver breach the doors at night, but you never know." He started to walk away again, but stopped. "I know this is a lot to take in, but it's better to get it out of the way then let it wait. Starting tomorrow you will try out each of the jobs we have here. When your trials are over, we will decide which one would be best for you."

"What are the jobs?"

Alby flashed a smile. "Eager already, huh, greenie?"

He shrugged.

"You already know about the Runners. Frypan is in charge of the Cooks. Their job is pretty much self-explanatory, preparing meals to feed these hungry shucks. The Builders - " Alby gestured again to the Watchtower. He could see several teenagers moving large planks of wood near it. " - are responsible for keeping the buildings updated. They fix holes in the roof, put up fences for the livestock. It's a rough job. The Track-hoes take care of the gardens, and they are very good at their job, as you saw. Zart is the Keeper of the Track-hoes, and he is very protective of his plants." Alby resumed walking, and he followed just a step behind him. "Baggers watch over the Glade, and handle dead bodies."

"You mean...?"

Alby glanced back at him. "Some are not strong enough to make it," he said. 

He winced. Was it that bad here that death was the only way out?

"The Slicers handle the Blood House and the livestock. A very bloody job. They tend to cut themselves accidentally all the time," Alby commented in a slightly annoyed tone. "Sloppers are the ones who are not the best at any of the jobs. But they do their job well, making sure the Homestead is clean, firewood is stocked. All that stuff. Others do not see them as very important, but they are a vital part of the Glade." 

He nodded, then spotted a smaller building not far away. Unlike the Homestead, the door to this building was closed. "What's that?"

"That's where we are going." 

They walked in silence to the small building. As they got closer, he noticed a cross had been painted on the doors with what looked like dirt and blood. 

"This is where the Med-jacks work."

"Med-jacks?"

"They take care of us when we are hurt or ill." Alby motioned to one of his bandaged hands. "Good guys, they are." Alby knocked on the door before opening it. "Come one, greenie." He walked through the door, and he followed. 

It was cool inside the building, though sunlight streamed in through opened windows. A cubby space similar to the one in the Homestead was against the wall. Random equipment and stacked papers sat in the spaces. A teen with dark skin and wiry muscle was reading a paper, but he looked up when Alby approached him. "Hello, Alby," he greeted him.

"How have things been, Jeff? Quiet today?"

"Hardly." Jeff gave the paper a shake. "Isaac already visited three times today. His arm looks like he's been pulled though a bramble bush. I recommended he stay away from the knives for a while." He peered around Alby to look at him. "The new greenie? I'm Jeff."

He stepped forward. "Hello." He held out his hand, and Jeff shook it without hesitation. 

"How are you, greenie? Any chills, headache, nausea?"

"A slight headache, but nothing too worrying." He pressed his fingertip above his right eye. "Acute pain in the frontal lobe. Not a sharp sting, but a light throb." He dropped his hand, confused. How in the world did he know that?

Jeff stared at him then smiled. "A smart one, huh? Not too many of them. Were there any syringes in the Box? Clint's been raving about them for a week now."

"I didn't get the chance to check," Alby said. "Nick assigned me tour duty." He looked beyond Jeff to further in the room. "How is he?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"He's getting better. Ankle's not swollen anymore, so we think it's healing." Jeff guided Alby away from the cubby holes.

He followed them. 

Three cots were lined up against the wall. Two were neatly made, though the sheets were obviously stained. The third was the furthest from the door, and it was occupied. A teenager was lying in the bed. One of his ankles was bandaged and elevated on a small pile of folded shirts. He looked up when they approached him.

"How you doin', Newt?"

He gazed at the teen in confusion. For the smallest moment a weird smell seemed to be wreathing around him. He ignored it, guessing it was part of the building's natural scent from being in bright sunlight for who-knows-how-long. 

The teen in the bed looked up at Alby with dark brown eyes that were half-hidden by somewhat oily blond hair. "I'm bloody bored," the teen - Newt - grumbled. He looked past Alby's tall frame to him. "Are you the new greenie?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He was a bit startled; Newt... sounded different than the other boys. He had some kind of accent. It sent a strange shiver down his spine.

"Got a name yet?"

"Not yet. They all say it'll come to me eventually."

"It will." Newt glanced up at Alby, sitting up a bit, dark eyes glistening with hope. "Please tell me you brought a book or something. I'm going mad here!"

"Next time."

Newt slammed himself back onto the bed. "Bloody slinthead," he growled.

What kind of name was that? Slinthead? It wasn't the only unusual term he had heard. Frypan had called some of the others "shucks," and they were all calling him "greenbean" or "greenie." Did they just randomly make up words for fun?

He distracted himself from his thoughts by looking over the bandage work on Newt's ankle. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Yes," Newt hissed.

Without thinking, he reached out and gently touched the injured ankle. His fingertips ghosted over the bandages. He looked up at Jeff, who was staring at him in confusion. "How long has the swelling been gone?"

"About two weeks," Jeff repeated, furrowing his brow.

He carefully placed his right hand flat against the bottom of Newt's foot. His left hand gently rested on his shin; he could feel the roughness of the pants against his palm. Slowly he pushed against Newt's foot, bending it until his toes were pointing towards the patched ceiling. 

"What are you doing?"

He ignored Alby. His hands seemed to know what to do, as if he had done this hundreds of times before. He returned the foot to its original position before repeating the process two more times. Each time, Newt would wince, and he would pause for Newt to adjust before continuing. He looked up at Jeff when he was finished. "His ankle joints were starting to lock. He needs to move it, or it'll be too weak to walk on."

"Well, look at you. Been here probably two hours, and you're already a med-jack." Newt's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Brilliant, really!"

"Sorry," Jeff apologized. "He's usually more fair-tempered."

He shrugged. "Pain makes you irritable, so I'm not offended." He looked down at Newt. "Stretch it every morning and night. It'll hurt, but the pain will lessen each day."

He was aware the others were staring at him in disbelief. 

"How did you know to do that?" Alby asked.

He shrugged.

"At least he knows what he's talking about," Jeff offered calmly. "I kinda agree with him about Newt moving his ankle, though. It'll strengthen his leg." The Med-jack looked thoughtfully at him. "With all the injuries lately, another Med-jack would be welcomed."

Alby looked at him as well. "We'll see."


	11. The Name

He stared at the giant concrete doors. He cocked his head to the side then reached out a hand to touch one of them. It was cold under his fingertips, in spite of the warmth from the Glade. He had been eating the dinner Frypan had whipped up when he heard the loud rumble of rock moving against each other. He had fled the Homestead, thinking it was falling, and been startled to see the gaps in the walls being closed by the use of giant gears. The sound and sight had both terrified and fascinated him. 

"They close every night." Footsteps approached him, and he looked over to see a teen with short black hair and slant-like eyes. "Makes the Glade a bit suffocating, but at least it keeps the Grievers out. Name's Minho," he added, holding out his hand. 

"Nameless," he replied while shaking his hand. "Or greenie, I guess."

"Still don't know your name, huh?"

He shook his head. "Everyone says it'll come to me eventually."

"They're right. Anyways, I'm here to fetch you."

"I'm not a canine," he muttered.

Minho smirked, then whistled a summons. 

He rolled his eyes at the other teen. 

"Anyways, come on. They're throwing a party, and you're the nameless guest of honor."

"Lucky me."

Minho laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't be a sourpuss." He grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and tugged him away from the doors. With a sigh, he followed the other teen as he headed towards the Homestead. As they approached, he noticed a pile of large sticks had been propped against each other within a circle made of smooth stones. Smaller twigs and broken boards had been tossed in as well. Teenagers were milling about the pile. Some were acting as if anticipating something while others were sitting on large, barkless logs.

He felt his dinner - rich potato soup - curdle in his stomach as the teenagers turned to watch their approach. Minho greeted the others merrily with a cheeky smile on his tanned face. He hung back a bit. He did not know these boys, and he did not like crowds.

Nick appeared seemingly out of nowhere with six others following him, including Frypan. He did not know the others yet. All were carrying a spear that was aflame, with the exception of Nick, who was holding two. Minho hurried over and took one of the spears from the leader. 

He watched, unsure, as the eight teenagers surrounded the tower of sticks. Nick turned to face him. 

"Welcome to the Glade, greenie! Let's light'em up!"

As if given a signal, the boys threw their flaming spears at the pile. It instantly caught, and a roaring fire was welcomed with whoops and hollers from the teens. 

He stood mesmerized by the flames. The warmth was welcoming because the night had turned chilly when the sun had gone behind the wall. Lambskin drums created a rhythm that seemed to match his beating heart. All the other teens were prancing around as they danced to the beat. Most were carrying glass jars filled almost to the brim with some strong-smelling liquid. 

"Hey, greenie!" Minho appeared at his side, two jars in hand. He handed one to him. "Gally's specialty, man. Kinda like one of those rites of passage things."

He brought the jar to his face and sniffed it, recoiling instantly from the harsh smell. Ugh. 

"Don't smell it," Minho advised with slight exasperation. "Just drink it."

Pulling a sour face, he did as he was told. The liquid burned his throat and left a bizarre taste on his tongue. He coughed, and Minho slapped his back a couple times. 

"You good?"

"It's gross."

"It gets better after the first drink," Minho promised, though his sly smirk said otherwise. "So enjoy!"

He sighed quietly and decided to take a couple gulps. Gasping, he lowered the jar. "Liar." His head was starting to spin a bit. "What the hell is it?"

Minho glanced down at his own jar with a thoughtful expression. "I'm not really sure," he replied slowly. "Gally makes it. Doubt he'd tell you what's in it if you asked."

"Which one is Gally?"

"The one with the eyebrows." Minho pointed across the bonfire to a ring of boys. They were cheering as a muscled teen threw a smaller boy to the ground. "He's the Keeper of the Builders."

"Looks like an asshole."

Minho's laugh was loud. "Shuck yes he is!" Then he gave him a sly side-eye. "Why don't you go challenge him? Maybe you can out him in his place."

He turned to the other teen. "Do I look like a glutton for punishment?"

"No, but you look like someone who could whoop his ass." Minho took his jar of yuck. "Come on. Let's see what's up." Minho nudged him towards the fighting circle; he watched as Gally shoved the boy again. As they walked, he caught tidbits of conversation from the others. Most of them were discussing Gally and about how he was the reigning champion of the ring. Others were talking about their jobs. A few were actually discussing him; he could see them watching him as they walked past.

Then someone shouted. "Hey! Someone get more shucking bracken! Don't want the fire to die early!"

Bracken?

A sudden sharp pain flared in his head, and he stopped walked, raising a hand to his forehead.

"Yo! You good there, greenie?" Minho's face swam into view through his blurry vision. "Did you drink too much?"

He shook his head. His tongue felt like it had been tied in a knot.

Bracken.

Brack-en.

Bricken?

No, not Bricken...

What was it?

It was right there.

Then it hit him.

Breckin!

Breck-in!

His name!

He shook his head to try to clear the headache. "I'm good," he reassured Minho, lowering his hand. 

"You sure?"

"Yeah." He offered his new friend a small smile. "Let's go."

Minho grinned back, and they continued to the circle. Gally had just sent another boy flying with a whoop. Minho shoved his way to the inner edge of the circle. "Eh, Gally!"

The other teen turned, and he got a good look at him. He was well muscled with short and sweat-spiked dark blond hair, and green eyes that flashed with challenge. His nose looked as if it had been broken at least once. As Minho had mentioned, there was something up with his eyebrows; they were very thin and arched. Freaky. "What?"

"Got a new challenger for ya." Minho grabbed his jacket sleeve and pushed him into the circle. He stumbled for a moment but quickly found his footing.

Gally surveyed him with a critical eye. "What's up, greenie?" he asked in an aggressive tone. "You wanna go?"

He frowned a bit. Did he really want to fight this teen? He had just gotten to the Glade, and did not want to make enemies. He wanted to tell Gally no, but the other teen was already swinging a large fist towards his face. He ducked just in time. Not thinking at all, driven by instinct, he lunged forward. With a grunt, he shoved Gally back. 

"Shuck-face," Gally growled as he bounced on the balls of his feet. With a roar of annoyance, Gally leaped back into the fray. He met him halfway, arms locking in a tangle. His shoes dug into the sand as he and Gally pushed against each other. Straining grunts escaped both of them. Neither was giving in.

The shouts of enthusiam seemed to fade away. 

All he knew was that he had to beat Gally. 

He pressed his right foot into the sand to get some leverage. His chest expanded and deflated with his breathing. Arms strained as the more muscled teen tried to push him out of the ring. 

"Come on, greenie," a voice hissed in his ear. "Give in."

Anger fueled him. His name flashed before his eyes. He took a step forward. Gally grunted as he was forced back a step. Then another. 

"My name's not greenie," he snarled in Gally's ear. A surge of strength shot through his body. His arms slid past Gally's to grab him around the middle. The Builder gave a shout of surprise as he lifted him into the air. "It's Breckin!" he snarled. He used his whole weight to throw Gally to the sandy ground. The other teen grunted loudly as he landed with a mighty thud. "My name is Breckin!" he said again, loudly, getting back to his feet. 

Gally stared up at him with wide green eyes. 

A hush had fallen over the crowd, then Minho's voice rang out, "Nice job, Breckin!" That broke the silence, and the next thing he knew, he was being patted on the back and congratulated. Another jar of yuck was pushed into his hand. 

"Way to go, Breckin!"

"Showed him who's the boss!"

Breckin moved away from the crowd a bit and looked down at Gally, who was still on the ground, stunned. He held out a hand, and Gally took it after a moment's hesitation. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, and Breckin lifted his chin, ready to go again if Gally attacked. But the other teen gave a slight crooked grin. "Not bad." He held out his hand, and Breckin shook it. "For a greenie."

Breckin returned his smile. "Name's Breckin."


	12. The Bonding

For the next two weeks, Nick and Alby had him working different jobs around the Glade. Each had its own Keeper who was in charge of the others. He had to work with the Slicers first in the Bloodhouse; apparently all greenies started there. It was a messy, dirty job. Breckin had been tasked with keeping the knives sharpened then helping pluck some chickens Alec had "sacrificed" to the creators; it was rather amusing to see him get an earful from his Keeper, Winston. The way the blood scent clung to him for a couple days after made Breckin uncomfortable though.

His second job was being a Slopper. At first he thought the work was boring, until he found a rhythm. He made a game out of tossing matched socks into a wooden crate. Lee, the Keeper, was an interesting fellow who took great pride in his work. Breckin was fascinated by the knowledge he held, such as how to get bloodstains out of shirts and using crushed mint plants to make the clothes smell better.

Third, he was a Builder. Breckin could tell Gally's pride was still wounded from being bested in a wrestling match. He spoke to everyone in a tone that instantly proved to anyone that he was the leader of the Builders. He had made Breckin do rookie work, such as carrying small buckets of nails or tools to the others, until one of his crew injured themselves and had to be escorted to the med-hut. After that, Breckin had to lift and carry heavy wooden beams. He didn't mind the work, but his muscles did that night.

Being a Track-hoe was the fourth job he tackled. Zart, the Keeper, was like a god of growing things or something. He knew exactly what to do with each plant. He and Breckin pulled weeds out of the tomato beds, and tied vines to poles. There was something calming about being around and helping the plants.

The fourth job he tried was Cooking. Frypan was full of jolly chuckles, and his "minion chefs" are a nice bunch to work with. They taught Breckin the correct way to prepare and dice food. As with some of the other jobs, there was something calming about working in the kitchen. And the satisfied faces of the Gladers when they ate the food he prepared was a great reward.

Baggers were different from the other jobs. Billy and his small crew were a quiet lot, casting sharp glances at the door every now and then. They were always on guard, ready to alert the rest of Gladers if there was trouble. Breckin helped them by burying the remains of slaughtered livestock in the Deadheads, which was not far from the small graveyard. Then he had to take a nap in the med-hut so he could stay up all night watching over the Glade. Breckin was shocked by how quiet the Glade was at night. The stars and a crescent moon shone down, illuminating the buildings and walls. He was given a day off afterwards to rest.

He did not even ask if he could be a Runner. Apparently they had to be chosen by Minho, and Breckin honestly did not want to go into the maze. A weird, gut-twisting feeling would engulf him whenever he thought about leaving the Glade. It was as if something was holding him there.

His final job was with Clint and Jeff in the med-hut. At first, he mostly had to look after Newt. The other teen's ankle was doing better, mostly due to the stretching exercises Breckin told him to do. As the day wore on, Gladers streamed in and out of the med-hut, each with a different injury. Breckin had to do his best not to laugh when Gally walked in with one of the biggest splinters Breckin could ever remember seeing. That took a few minutes to get out then another two to disinfect and wrap it. Jeff and Clint were nice to work with, and, at one point, they were sitting around Newt's cot laughing as Clint told them the most random injuries some of the Gladers had received.

The last night of his trials Breckin found himself sitting up in bed, staring out the window at the moon. Its pale light was bright; Breckin saw it was getting close to being full. He sighed quietly, fingers fiddling with the zipper to his jacket. For some reason he felt anxious, like his brain was anticipating something. His leg bounced to an uneven beat. 

"Shut the bloody shuck up," growled a voice to his right. "Do you not sleep?"

Breckin glanced over his shoulder at his "roommate." "Sorry," he murmured, forcing his body to go still. The muscles in his arms still twitched, though, and he started to mess with the zipper again.

"What's got you so antsy?"

"I don't know," Breckin replied truthfully. 

There was the distinct shuffle of a body turning on a cot. "You've been staring at the moon for ages," Newt said. "Don't turn into a lunatic. I am actually grow concerned."

Breckin shook his head, feeling his mind go fuzzy. The smell of sunshine was still in the air, though the sun had gone down hours ago. How was that possible? Breckin sighed quietly. "Maybe I was really into astral bodies before I was brought up," he offered. "Or maybe I was training to be a spaceman or something."

"Or you were someone who believed staying up late was a common thing."

Breckin rolled his eyes. "Why aren't you asleep?"

There was a beat of silence, then Newt muttered, "Shucking ankle is aching."

"Did you do your exercises?"

"You're not a bloody Med-jack," Newt said. They lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Breckin felt bad. He had not meant to upset or annoy Newt. His "roommate" was in pain, and did not need Breckin's advice. He was right; Breckin was not a Med-jack, so who was he to tell him what to do. He sighed again then opened his mouth to speak, but Newt beat him to it. "Sorry."

"Fo- For what? You're right. I'm not a Med-jack, and there's no reason for me to pretend to be one. I don't know how I knew what to do with your ankle," he added, finally looking away from the moon. His gaze dropped to his lap. "So I should be the one saying sorry."

Newt didn't speak for a moment, but when he did his voice was calmer. "You said it yourself. 'Pain makes you bloody irritable.' It shucking sucks not being able to move from this damned bed."

"Have you not tried to get up?" 

"No."

Breckin twisted his upper body so he could look at Newt. "Have you been doing your stretches?" he asked again.

"Yes."

"Then the next step is walking." Breckin straightened himself then got to his bare feet. His blond roommate narrowed his eyes at him as Breckin approached his cot. "Come on."

"We're doing this right now?" he asked in a tone that said he was not amused.

"We're both awake, aren't we?" Breckin held out his hand. "Come on. Get up."

Newt's dark eyes traveled from Breckin's face to his outstretched hand. "You're bloody serious?"

Breckin rolled his eyes and made a come-hither motion with his index finger. "You want to get better or not?" He held Newt's glare for a moment, then the blond sighed before reaching out to take Breckin's hand. A thrill raced through his body, and he fought it down so he could help Newt sit up. He let go of his hand and waited for the other teen to move his legs over the side of the bed. 

Newt hesitated, one foot on the ground, the other hovering.

"It'll probably hurt," Breckin admitted, "but I'm sure it's the only way for your ankle to heal." He leaned down and carefully slid his arms under Newt's. With a soft grunt, he hoisted the slightly smaller teen off the bed. 

"Careful. Careful." Newt put his uninjured foot on the ground, accidently brushing it against Breckin's. His face pinched in a wince as he slowly set his other foot down. He hissed in pain, and Breckin tightened his grip a bit. "Ow. Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow."

Breckin shushed him. "It'll be okay. You're doing great," he encouraged. He took a step away from Newt. "Try to walk." Newt's dark eyes flashed in the moonlight. "I won't let you fall," he promised.

"You better not shucking let go," Newt growled. 

"I won't." Breckin watched Newt grit his teeth as he tried to take a step forward. They almost tumbled as Newt's balance was instantly lost. They tried a few more times, but Newt just stumbled and cursed. When Breckin was about to call it quits, Newt glared at him and said, "Let's keep going." Breckin just nodded, and Newt put in a bit more effort. 

His next several steps were incredibly shaky, but Newt did not give up. His eyes were squinted in concentration, and his bottom lip was gripped between his teeth. Every now and then a small sound of pain would escape him. But as Newt continued trying to walk, Breckin felt proud of him for doing the best he could. He had his arms around Newt's middle, holding the slightly smaller teen up and close to him. That smell of sunshine was almost overwhelming.

A few more practice steps, then Newt said he was done. He muttered under his breath that his ankle was killing him, and Breckin carefully led him back to his cot. "You did great," he said as Newt settled down.

"It shucking hurts," Newt grumbled as he manually lifted his leg onto the cot. 

"I know, but the more you practice, the faster you'll get better." Breckin reached over to tug Newt's blanket from the foot of the cot. 

"You're not gonna ask how it happened?"

Breckin paused, dropping the blanket onto Newt's legs. Curiosity bit at him, but he shook his head. "No. It's not my business." He looked into Newt's eyes. "Get some sleep, Newt."

"Why?" Newt asked. "Not like I'm gonna do much tomorrow anyways. Or the day after that. Or the day after that."

"Keep thinking that way, and you're never going to walk again." Breckin moved away to sit on his own cot. "You don't have to be so negative." He lied down on his cot but turned on his side to face Newt. 

The other teen was looking at him. "Any idea what your job is going to be?"

"No."

Newt hummed quietly before his mouth opened in a yawn, making Breckin chuckle. 

"Such a tired Newt," he teased softly. He snuggled into his jacket to stifle a yawn. "Night, Newt."

"Night."


	13. The Transformation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work has kept me away from the computer as of late.

"Yo, greenie!"

"I'm not a damned greenie," Breckin retorted, glaring at Vince, a cocky boy who worked with the Builders. "You know my name's Breckin. It's on the wall," he added, waving a hand. The day after his coming-to-the-Glade party, Alby had Breckin carve his name into the wall; he had chosen a spot that was a little away from the others. 

"You're still new, so, yeah, I'm gonna call you greenie. Anyways," he continued dismissively, "Alby is looking for you."

"Where is he?"

"In the med-hut," was all Vince would say as he marched past Breckin, heading to the watchtower.

Breckin glared after him for a moment then gathered the strips of cloth bandages that had been drying in the sun. Sighing quietly, he made his way back to the med-hut. 

A week had past since he started helping Newt. Every night after dinner Breckin would go to the med-hut and allow himself to be used as a crutch. The task did not annoy or bore him. In fact, since Clint and Jeff vouched for him to be a med-jack, Breckin had spent many hours with the injured teen. 

Alby was talking to Newt when Breckin walked into the building. He said a greeting, setting the bandages on the small table near the cubbies. "Vince said you needed me?" he asked as he started neatly folding the bandages. 

The second-in-command nodded. "Yes." He walked over to Breckin; there was something off about him. 

Breckin tensed. "What about?" He had done nothing wrong that he was aware of.

Alby shot a quick glance at Newt then leaned closer to Breckin. "Tonight, I need you to stay in the slammer."

Breckin stopped his folding. "What? What have I done?"

"It's a precaution," Alby said. 

"For what?" Breckin felt a pinch in his stomach. The way Alby's eyes were shifting a bit... There was something going on, and it made Breckin worry. 

"I can't tell you here. After you are done, go to the slammer." Then Alby pivoted on his heel and went back to Newt, who was staring at Breckin with unabashed curiosity. 

Breckin gulped, still feeling quite unsure of himself. Quickly, he finished folding the bandages and put them in their cubby spot. He said a good-night to Newt; the other teen returned it as if he had been asking a question. Alby walked with him as they left the med-hut and went to the slammer. Breckin's shoes dragged in the dirt. His relunctance must have been obvious; Alby paused at the door to the slammer and turned to look at Breckin.

"It's just for tonight." Alby unlocked the door and held it open. Breckin did not go in. "I'll explain everything once you get in."

Frowning, Breckin did as he was told. Alby shut and locked the door behind him. Breckin stared out at him through the vines and poles. "Why?"

Alby glanced around. No one was within sight of the slammer. The he reached into his back pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. "This was in the Box when you came to the Glade. It was addressed to me, and I thought it had something to do with me. It doesn't. It has to do with you."

"Me?"

"Yeah," Alby said with a nod. He unfolded the paper and scanned the contents. "I guess the creators wanted to warn me about a potential problem." His dark eyes lifted to look at Breckin. "It's instructions. I'm to place you in the slammer every full moon."

"Every full moon?" Breckin echoed. "What the shuck does that mean?"

"It says you were injected with something before you were brought here. Something dangerous called the Alpha Moon serum."

Breckin stared at the second-in-command. "What kind of klunk is that?"

Alby shrugged. "I don't know. But it says the serum is triggered on full moons, and we have to lock you up." He looked down at the paper again. "It also said I was not to tell Nick. This was just to stay between you and me."

"What's going to happen to me?"

"Apparently it turns you into some kind of monster."

Breckin blinked dumbly for a moment. "A what?"

"A monster." Alby shrugged again. "We'll just have to see."

"We?"

"I rested all afternoon so I can stay up to witness this... reaction." Alby re-folded the paper and stuck it back in his pocket. "I'll be back. If this is really going to happen, then take off your shoes. The creators don't send them up often." Then he left.

Breckin stared after him, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened on the vines he was clutching. Alpha Moon serum? What kind of messed up klunk was that? A monster? Breckin's body twitched. The creators must have had a great time injecting him with potentially dangerous stuff. 

With nothing to do, Breckin sat down on the dirt floor, legs stretched out before him, back against the vines. He waited in silence for Alby to return, removing his shoes and socks as the second-in-command had recommended. The Glade slowly started to darken as the sun finally went down behind the Western stone wall. 

"It's almost time."

Alby's voice made him jump. Breckin fell over onto the ground in a heap. "Shuck!" he hissed. He glared at Alby through the vines. "Asshole."

The second-in-command had a chair from the Homestead, and a stained bag in the other. He set up the chair so he could see clearly into the slammer. "How do you feel?"

"Annoyed," Breckin growled, getting to his feet. "I don't like it in here." 

"It's just for tonight," Alby promised, sitting down with the bag in his lap. He glanced up at the sky; a faint light was starting to peek over the eastern wall. He opened the bag and withdrew a notebook and a pen. 

Breckin cocked his head, annoyance giving way to curiosity. "What's that for?"

"I'm taking notes," Alby replied. 

"Why?"

"In the instructions the creators listed a few things that should calm you down if you become too animalistic. I'm going to write what I observe then compare notes."

"So I'm just an experiment?" Breckin asked, narrowing his eyes. 

Alby shook his head. "Don't think about it like that." 

"Kind of hard not to," Breckin retorted.

The glow from the moon strengthened as it floated over the wall.

It happened almost instantly.

A crawling itch in his arms grabbed Breckin's attention, like a bug was on him. He looked down and swatted at his left arm. Nothing was there... A hiss passed his lips as a pain started in his hands. His eyes widened as his fingernails started to grow and sharpen themselves into a fine point. Burning electricity shot through him. Breckin doubled over, arms crossing over his stomach, until his legs seemed to turn to jell-o. He dropped to the ground, gasping for air. Pops and cracks filled his ears, and he whined low in his throat. His eyes closed.

"Holy shuck," said a breathy voice from somewhere beyond the barrier of pain.

Breckin whimpered.

The pain receded slowly.

What the hell - ?

What had happened to him?

He opened his eyes and was met with something that sent terror to his heart. 

His hands...

His hands were larger - a lot larger! And covered in long light brown hair. His nails were long black claws. He brought a clawed hand to his face. His mouth and nose had been elongated into some sort of half-muzzle. He dipped his index finger in his mouth, and felt that his canine teeth had grown and sharpened. He removed his hand, whimpering again. 

"Breckin?"

His eyes drifted upward to Alby; the second-in-command's face was pressed against one of the many small openings the vines created. His dark eyes were wide, leaving a ring of white around the irises. 

Slowly Breckin pushed himself to his feet. The clothes he had on were tight, only his jacket still hung a bit loose on his broadened shoulders. He looked down and felt a slight wave of dizziness. Apparently he had gained quite a few inches from whatever happened to him. His jeans were tight against his now muscled legs. The same brown hair that was on his arms was poking out from the cuffs. His feet had broadened and were also covered in the same hair. Black claws had replaced his toenails. 

"I guess that serum is no joke," Alby said. "How do you feel?"

Breckin opened his mouth to talk, but his tongue would not form words. Somehow he knew he could not speak in this form, as if the creature had taken his human speech. Instead, he hung his head and whimpered quietly. Some part of him felt like there was something missing. There was a hole in his torso, in his heart. He whined, bringing a hand up to his now barrel chest. 

"Here." Alby was pushing some kind of cloth through the vines. "The instructions said this should help."

Careful so he didn't shred it with his new claws, Breckin took the offered clothing. It was a muscle shirt, burnt orange and reeking of what he guessed sunshine would smell like. Breckin whimpered, bringing the top to his face and inhaling the scent. The pain in his chest calmed a bit. Somewhere in his mind, Breckin knew the smell meant something to him. But what, he did not know.

"Wow." Breckin opened his eyes to look at Alby. The older teen was still staring at him in disbelief. "The creators weren't wrong."

Breckin cocked his head in confusion.

Alby must have recognized the look on his deformed face. "In the instruction, it said that you can be calmed by something that belongs to someone very important to you." He gestured to the top still clutched in Breckin's claws. "That's... Uh. That's Newt's."

What?

Breckin growled in confusion. 

What was he saying? Did Newt mean something to him? 

"The creators wrote that Newt was special to you. As in, very special." 

Breckin snorted, looking back down at the orange top. Of course Newt was very special to him. The injured teen had become a close friend. That's why he spends hours after dinner helping him strengthen his leg. Seeing Newt make progress, even if it was a little at a time, was something special to Breckin.

"Listen, Breckin, I don't know any easy way to say this." Alby rubbed a hand over his bald head. "Newt is uh... He's..." Alby sucked in a deep breath, as if preparing himself. He dropped his hand and stared at him. "Breckin, he's your partner, man. Your mate."

. . .

WHAT?!

His head snapping up almost painfully, Breckin stared at Alby. Did he just hear that correctly? Newt was his... His... No. No-no-no. There was no way in - Really?? This... This was all a joke... Right?

Alby reached into his pocket. He withdrew then unfolded that damned piece of paper. "...'When Breckin is in his monster-skin, he may become restless and possibly dangerous. The best way to ensure he does not go full animal is to either have his mate or something that has his mate's scent made available to him. In this case, Newt or something with his scent needs to be presented to Breckin.' It says it right there, man." Alby returned the paper to his pocket. "You and Newt are... life partners, or some klunk like that."

With a mighty thump, Breckin dropped to the ground. His mind was reeling from the information Alby had just given him. Newt was his... his life partner, mate, whatever. He shook his head, confused and frustrated, but a shadowy part in his mind seemed to be howling with pure joy. When he fell, he had dropped the sleeveless shirt. He carefully picked it up and looked at it. Newt had worn it yesterday. The burnt orange stood out against the off-white of the medical blankets. 

"I don't have a problem with it, just so you know." 

Breckin looked up at Alby. The second-in-command was leaning against the wall of the slammer, arms draped through a couple holes. His dark eyes were no longer shining with fear; he was just calmly observing Breckin. 

"The paper says your mind is still human," Alby said. "As long as you feel sane enough not to attack the others, you can transform in the Deadheads next time." Alby glanced up at the full moon. "We'll have to keep track of the moon cycle though. And keep this a secret from Nick."

Breckin nodded. 

"Should we let Newt know about this, and the... partner thing? I'm going to leave that up to you."

Breckin was already shaking his head before Alby finished talking. There was no way he was going to speak about this to Newt. He didn't want to scare him or have his friendship rejected. A whimper passed his lips.

"It'll be okay, Breckin," Alby promised. "We won't say anything to him, but, eventually, we'll have to."


	14. The Knowing

For the fifth time that day, Breckin rushed in and out of the med-hut, ignoring the confused look the injured teen shot at him. He knew Newt was starting to get upset with being ignored, but Breckin did not want to speak to him, or even look at him. How could he when what Alby had told him last week was still running through his head. 

'You and Newt are life partners.'

'You and Newt are life partners.'

'You and Newt are life partners.'

Breckin snarled under his breath. His grip tightened on the strap to the bag filled with medical supplies he had slung over his shoulder. He shook his head for a moment to unclog it. He had a job to do, and could not afford to be distracted.

Winston and Alec were waiting for him at the Bloodhouse pens. Both were staring at the small lambs lying in the grass; they had gotten bigger in the past month, almost butcher size. Breckin approached them and cleared his throat to get his attention. 

"Thanks for coming, Breckin," said Winston with a small sigh of relief.

"What's happened?"

The Keeper of the Slicers led the way to the Bloodhouse. "Dave cut himself again."

"Where and how badly? Is it the same as last time?"

Alec answered with a slight shake of his head. "Left forearm. Maybe a few inches long."

Breckin glanced at his friend. "Was he playing with the butcher knife again?" When Alec nodded, Breckin sighed heavily with annoyance. Haven't these morons learned not to play with sharp objects? Apparently not... "Slinthead's cut himself two times already this week."

Winston opened the door to the Bloodhouse, and Breckin was immediately bombarded by the harsh scents of animals living in the barn, and blood. The long pathway through the middle of the building was covered in dried grasses from the fields and straw. A line of stall doors was on the left, and the slaughtering tables were on the right; one of the Slicers was quartering a chicken and gave a brief wave when he looked up. Whimpering from a stall not far from the door caught his attention. "He's in there," Winston said, nodding toward the stall. Breckin thanked him, and Winston walked away calling out for another one of the Slicers. 

"I'm most likely going to need your help," Breckin told Alec, who grimaced. Breckin opened the swinging stall door and stepped inside. A younger teen stared up at Breckin with teary dark eyes. His good hand was pressed against the wound on his other arm. "Hello again, Dave," he said as he set his bag down on the small and, thankfully, clean table screwed onto the stall wall. "What happened?" he asked, sitting down on a stool.

"I had an-an accident," Dave said in a watery voice.

"Noted," Breckin said. He gently gripped Dave's wrist and pulled his injured arm closer. "Alec, you got a lamp or light or something?"

"Yeah." Alec quickly left the stall to fetch a light.

Breckin waited until his friend had returned with a lamp. He thanked him then promptly blinked when Alec turned it on; klunk, it was bright. Breckin reached into the bag and pulled out a few clean rags. "Let me take a look." Dave moved his hand, and Breckin could see that Alec had not been too far off. The cut was slightly jagged, at least three inches long, located away from any major veins, and oozing blood. Carefully he cleaned the blood away. "Assistant Alec, grab the water bottle and sewing kit from my bag... Set them on the table please. Now get that jar of Gally's yuck and pour a shot into the little cup... Thanks. Dave, drink it."

Dave quickly drank the alcohol, wincing. 

Breckin unscrewed the lid off the water bottle. "Alec, get him a clean rag. Dave, bite down." As soon as Dave's jaw clenched down on the fabric, Breckin poured some water over the cut. The younger teen snarled curses through a mouthful of cloth. Breckin apologized quietly, quickly cleaning as much of the cut as possible. "Alec, this is going to be the hard part." Breckin set Dave's now clean arm on the table. "Dave, I want to apologize in advance." He reached over and grabbed up the sewing supplies. "Alec, help him stay as still as possible," Breckin said as he carefully threaded a curved needle.

Dave whimpered and his eyes grew wide. He shook his head, and Breckin looked into his watering eyes. 

"It'll be okay, Dave," Breckin soothed him. Alec came up behind Dave and wrapped one arm around his torso. The other he pressed against Dave's, keeping him still. "Remember: breathe." Breckin returned his gaze to the cut which was starting to slightly bleed again. 

Altogether it took about, according to Breckin's watch, half an hour to stitch the cut. Dave had passed out from the pain and shock ten minutes into the procedure, and Alec had to prop him up. Once done, Breckin gently applied some antibiotic ointment onto the stitches. Then he wrapped it with clean bandages. 

Winston returned just as Breckin was finishing packing up. "How is he?" he asked, stepping into the stall. His dark gaze swept over the passed out Slicer. "Will he be okay?"

Breckin used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Thanks to Alec's help, I stitched him up. He'll need to take it easy for at least a week. Give him light work," Breckin advised. "Send him to the med-hut in two days so I can check his progress."

"Alright," Winston agreed. "Thanks, Breckin."

Breckin offered a small smile. "It's no problem, man." He shook Winston's hand, thanked Alec again for his help, then headed back to the med-hut.

Newt was staring at the ceiling when he returned. Breckin placed his bag on one of the pegs on the wall then grabbed a notebook from the four-legged table where they kept their journals. He quickly found his - dull orange with thinly lined paper - and flipped to the next empty page. With a pen he wrote down a brief description of Dave's injury, the equipment he used, and what he would have to do to the injury in the future.

"That took a while," Newt commented as Breckin closed his notebook. 

"Stitches sometimes do," Breckin replied, not looking at Newt. "How is your ankle?"

"Still hurts," Newt admitted. He went quiet for a moment, and Breckin was about to leave again when he spoke up, "Have I done something to offend you lately?"

Breckin swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "No," he said, still not looking at the other.

"Then what the shuck is your problem?"

Finally, Breckin gazed over at him. Newt's dark brown eyes were staring at him with annoyance and anxiety. Something inside he did not like that look. 

'You and Newt are life partners.'

He internally flinched. "Nothing," he lied. 

"That's a bunch of klunk, and we both know it."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Of course I bloody wouldn't," Newt snapped. "Nobody tells me anything anymore, including you."

Breckin stared at him. How could he tell him that they were partners? Newt was already dealing with enough stress with his ankle on the mend and still not being able to walk around on his own. Breckin did not want to add to his list of problems. He settled with "It's complicated."

Newt huffed loudly in frustration. "What the shuck does that mean?"

"It means it's complicated," Breckin retorted. "You're in pain, and that's making you irritable."

"No, you avoiding me is pissing me off." Newt shoved himself up on his cot, resting his back against the wall. His dark eyes were narrowed in a glare. "You've changed, Breckin."  
Breckin narrowed his eyes. "I've already told you that it's complicated. I'm dealing with some klunk right now, stuff I have only recently learned about, and it's driving me insane. You would not understand," he added, drawing out each word slowly, when Newt opened his mouth. 

"Try me," Newt challenged.

"No." Breckin turned away. 

"Does this have to do with us being partners?"

Breckin halted in his tracks, almost falling over. His heart jumped to his throat. "Wh-What do you mean?" he asked, back still towards Newt.

"That's it, isn't it?" Newt demanded. "That's why you don't want to talk to me about it, because it's about me, and you," he added in a harsh whisper. 

"How?"

"Alby read that shucking letter the creators gave him when he visited me. Out loud. He thought I was asleep, but I heard every word." Newt's voice faltered for a moment. He cleared his throat and continued, "You were given a serum that changes you into some animal-human hybrid thing. And that you and I are mates. That my very scent is enough to tame you." Newt sighed quietly, deflating just the tiniest bit. "I know the full moon causes you to change. Alby had you locked in the slammer, didn't he?"

Voice still lost, Breckin managed a small nod. He could not believe it. Newt knew this whole time, and never said a shucking thing to him. Was he embarrassed about having him as a life partner? "I didn't choose this," he muttered when he finally found his voice. It was harsh; he almost flinched at his own tone. "I didn't choose to be injected with this klunk. And I guess I didn't really have a choice in who was my partner." He paused for a moment to draw in a deep breath, to try to regulate his heartbeat, but failing miserably. "This means you and I knew each other before we were placed in this shuck-hole. We were already mates; the paper from the creators says so." He finally turned around to face Newt. The other teen was looking at him, face set in a frown, dark eyes focused on his. "What?"

"How long was it going to take for you to tell me?" Newt asked in a quiet tone.

"It seems you knew before I did, so why didn't you tell me?" Breckin muttered. His heart plummeted as he said, "Were you ashamed? Ashamed to have been paired with me, another male?"

Newt shrugged his skinny shoulders. "I guess."

Breckin felt a sharp pain shoot through his chest, through his heart. Newt was embarrassed to be with another male... Breckin's lungs seemed to cease function, and he gasped for breath. What the hell was he feeling? Ignoring Newt's shout of surprise, Breckin ran out of the med-hut and across the Glade. He heard others yelling after him, but he didn't stop, not until he reached the Deadheads. He slid around thick tree trunks until he was face to face with one of the walls.

He dropped to the ground, his back against the cold concrete. Drawing his legs to his chest, he rested his forehead on his knees. The rejection was like a hot burn in his chest. He did not know why it hurt so much. Hot tears streamed down his face, soaking into his dirty jeans. His muffled sobs were the only sound he could hear. 

"Breckin!"

He pressed his face further into his jeans. 

"Breckin! Breckin?" Twigs and leaves crunched under the heavy footsteps that approached. "What's wrong, man?" Alby sat down on the ground beside him. 

"He is ashamed of me," Breckin whispered, feeling the pain renew itself. 

"Who?"

"Newt." Breckin lifted his head from his knees to look at the second-in-command. "He knew... He knew we are partners. He was awake when you read that letter," Breckin continued before Alby could speak. "He knew this - this whole time." Fresh tears streamed down his cheeks. "He's ashamed of being with me."

"Is it because of the monster-skin, or because you're a boy?"

Breckin blinked harshly to get rid of the tears. "Because I'm a male." He turned to look at Alby. "Why is everything going wrong? First I'm a monster, then I'm mated to a boy who does not want me like that. What the shuck is next?"

"You're going to pull yourself together for starters," Alby said. "Return to your duties and live one day at a time." Alby patted Breckin's shoulder. "Who knows? Maybe he'll come around." He grunted as he got to his feet. "I'll let Clint know you're okay, and you'll be back later." 

"Thanks." Breckin watched as Alby walked away. 

It was dark when Breckin finally left the safety of the trees. His eyes felt raw from all the tears he had shed. Several lit torches led the way to the med-hut. Breckin paused at the door. He knew Newt was most likely lying awake on his cot, and he did not want to face him. But he knew he had to... Taking a deep breath to help steel his nerves, Breckin went inside. 

He had been right; dark brown eyes stared at him through the semi-darkness. He dropped his gaze and went to his cot. Slowly, he kicked off his shoes and lied down. Some blood was still smeared on his hands, and Breckin grumbled a curse under his breath for forgetting to clean himself up after stitching Dave's arm. Then his anger dropped. He'd just get dirty again tomorrow. 

"You were gone quite a while," Newt commented in a quiet voice. 

Breckin didn't respond, just snuggled into his jacket. 

"Where were you?"

"It doesn't matter," Breckin murmured, flinching at the sound of his own voice. It was rough, gravelly; it was proof of what he had been doing.

Newt was quiet for a moment. "You've been crying." A statement, not a question.

Breckin squeezed his eyes shut. "Like I said, it doesn't matter." He yawned quietly; crying all evening had worn him out. Silence fell upon them until Newt spoke again.

"Does it hurt? When you change?"

"I've been through worse," Breckin replied without thinking. "Way worse." He heard Newt shuffling around on his cot. "Go to sleep, Newt."

"Not until I apologize."

"For what?" Breckin rolled over on his cot to face the other teen. "You have nothing to apologize for. You didn't sign up for this klunk... this being life partners with a monster." Breckin felt his body tremble with more unshed tears and forced himself to calm down.

Newt stared at him with those dark eyes. Breckin felt as if he could look through him to his very soul. "I do have to apologize," he said slowly. "I've been sitting on this since Alby read that letter, and never had the balls to tell you."

"Alby did," Breckin whispered. "He told me the night I went into the monster-skin." He sighed through his nose. "I didn't want to tell you. You didn't need that kind of pressure after what happened to your ankle."

"I could have handled it."

Breckin snorted. "You're ashamed to be with another man, Newt." He felt his eyes start to burn and blinked rapidly. "You're ashamed to be with me."

Newt sighed quietly. "I'm not ashamed," he said. 

"You're lying."

"I'm not." Newt sighed again. "It's unusual. No one in the Glade has ever thought of being with another. And, suddenly, you and I are supposed to be together." His gaze turned almost pleading. "It's confusing."

"Yeah," Breckin agreed. "If you want, we can still be friends."

Newt snorted. "I thought we already were."

Breckin cracked a small smile.


	15. The Comfort

A strange sound woke Breckin from a dead sleep. He squeezed his eyes shut before blinking them open. For a moment he forgot where he was, then the pale light of the moon lit up the room and quickly reminded him.

The sound came again from his right.

Slowly Breckin turned his head. His heart gave a sudden throb at what he saw. 

Newt was sitting up in bed, his back against the wall. His head was slightly bowed, but, even in the dimly lit room, Breckin could see the tears streaming down his face. He watched as the blond teen sucked in a breath as if to collect himself, but he only shuddered then let out a quiet sob. His shoulders quickly moved up and down as he cried. 

"Newt?"

The other teen didn't even jump at his voice. Instead, he brought a hand up and wiped away the tears. But more soon replaced them. "G-Go back to sl-sleep," Newt whispered, words broken by soft sniffles. 

Breckin stared at him for a few more moments. Then he slowly pushed himself up and swung his legs off the bed. The cold from the floor sent a small shiver up his spine. He got up and shuffled the few steps to Newt's cot. He sat down beside him. "Why are you crying, Newt?"

"I'm not."

A sarcastic joke was forced back. Breckin sighed quietly then slowly reached out an arm. He slid it around Newt's shaking shoulders and gently pulled the teen to him. Almost instantly the distraught teen turned his upper body so his face was buried in his neck. His nerves started to tingle strangely at the closeness. Breckin fought back a tremor as hot tears trickled down his skin. He brought his other hand up to gently cup the back of Newt's head, fingers getting caught in blond strands. Gentle hushes fell from his lips. 

He did not know how long they sat there in the dark. He didn't really care. All he knew was that Newt needed comforted, and he was the only one right now who could provide that comfort.. "Shh... Shh... It'll be okay," He murmured in his ear. "Please don't cry..."

Newt sucked in a deep breath. His exhale sent a wave of... something through Breckin's body. "I'm... I'm sorry," he whispered through a hiccup, voice hoarse from his quiet sobbing. 

"There's no need to apologize," Breckin said quietly. "Don't say you're sorry for showing emotion." Breckin placed a hesitant but gentle kiss on Newt's head. The warm scent of sunshine filled his nostrils. "Will you be okay?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's stress," Newt admitted after a moment of silence. "My bloody ankle. Not being able to walk. This whole place." A shudder shook his lean body. "The letter from the creators. It's just..."

"So overwhelming?" Breckin offered when he trailed off. Newt nodded against his neck.

"I feel like such a bitch for crying."

"It's okay to cry, Newt. It's a sign that you're still alive." Breckin kissed his crown again. "And it's a sign that you've been strong for far too long. It'll be okay," he said. 

Newt let out a shuddering breath. "How is it you know the right shucking thing to say?"

Breckin shrugged the shoulder Newt was not leaning on. "Must be a partner thing, I guess." He felt and heard Newt yawn. "You need to get some rest, Newt." The blond did not argue as Breckin carefully drew away from him. He helped the injured teenager lie back onto his cot and tugged the blanket to his shoulders. Breckin peered down into dark brown eyes. "I'll always by here, Newt, if you need someone to talk to."

"Thanks, Breckin."

Flashing a tiny smile, Breckin turned back to his own cot and laid down. He rolled onto his side so he was facing Newt. The other was looking back at him. His eyelids were red and swollen from crying, and he sniffled a few times. 

"Don't tell anyone."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I'm here to help, not hurt." Breckin untucked an arm from his blankets and reached across the gap between their cots; Newt met him halfway. The heat created by their hands sent a shot of happiness to Breckin's heart. 

"Breckin?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."


	16. The Gift

"What the hell am I supposed to do with these?" Newt stared at the gift. 

Breckin rolled his eyes and fought back a groan of annoyance. "They're crutches, you shuck-face." For the past several days during his spare moments, Breckin had whittled the crutches from two tree branches. He had sewn cloth to the crotches of the sticks so Newt would not pinch his armpits as he walked. "You know, so you can get the shuck out of here."

Newt lifted his gaze to stare at him with guarded confusion. "You made crutches?"

"No. I made some awesome s'more sticks and wanted to show them off." Breckin rolled his eyes again. "Of course, I made you crutches. Sheesh!" He set the modified sticks down, letting them lean against Newt's cot, then held his hands out to the other teenager. "Come on. Up you get."

Newt's laugh made his heart work double-time. "Alright, shucker." The injured teen took a hold of Breckin's offered hands, and Breckin slowly help him off the cot. Newt's hands rested on his shoulders; he tried to ignore the heat that was radiating off his palms. "Hold on." Breckin bent slightly to pick up the crutches.

"This is why you took my measurements."

"Mhm." Breckin handed Newt the crutches. Together they managed to get them situated correctly, and Newt was soon standing on his own. His knuckles had whitened as they gripped the handles Breckin has installed. "Do they pinch?"

Newt shook his head. "No." Breckin stepped back as he took a tentative step. 

"How do they feel?"

"Shut up. I'm testing them out."

Breckin shook his head, smiling, and sat down on his cot. He watched as Newt carefully maneuvered around the small space, adjusting his grip on the crutches when needed. Finally Newt came to a stop in front of him, a broad smile lighting up his face. "And...?"

"You are bloody brilliant!" Newt leaned forward on his crutches and pressed a kiss against Breckin's forehead. "Thank you."

Breckin felt his face burn with a blush, and he stuttered a "Y-You're welcome." Then he gently pushed Newt back. "Let's get you out of here." Breckin got to his feet and followed a beaming Newt out of the med-hut. Almost at once voices came from all directions, calling out greetings to the teen, whom was blinking rapidly as the harsh sunlight beamed down on him for the first time in what must have been ages. Breckin stayed in the shadows of the med-hut for a moment longer, admiring the way the sun made Newt's hair shine in multiple shades of gold. The freckles on his pale shoulder stood out more, as if just being outside had returned their color. He knew he had never seen as anything as breath-taking as this. 

"Hey, Newt!"

"Newt's better!"

"You're still alive!"

Newt glanced over his shoulder at Breckin. His dark eyes shone with a happiness he had never seen before, and, yet, something told Breckin that he had seen this look before. In a place that was vastly different from the Glade. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as Newt beamed at him. "Thank you," he said again.

"Your griping about wanting to go outside was starting to get on my nerves," Breckin said with a smile. "Now you can shut up."

"Oi!" Newt smacked Breckin's leg with a crutch. 

Breckin laughed softly as he watched Newt make his way towards the field. The blond paused when he reached the tall grass and looked around; Breckin could see his shoulders go up and down slowly as he sucked in the fresh air of the Glade.

"That was a great idea, Breckin." Clint appeared at his side. "This will make him happier."

"His smile really brightens the Glade, doesn't it?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah. He's starting to look like he did before the accident."

"You know what happened to him?" 

"Yes. Just know this, Breckin: Newt will never walk normally again, not matter what we do for him."

Breckin turned to look at his Keeper. "He was Runner, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. One of the better ones."

"What happened?"

"He made a decision that almost cost him his life," Clint explained, glancing at the sky.

"Is it one of those I'll have to ask him questions."

"Mhm."

Breckin clicked his tongue in annoyance. He had been on good terms with the blond teen, and he did not want to shatter what friendship they had. Neither of them really spoke about that night Newt confessed to Breckin that he knew they were partners. It was an uncomfortable subject that they did not want to touch, but Breckin knew that they would have to eventually. As he watched Newt march around the Glade on his crutches, talking and laughing with the others, Breckin felt a warmth flood his body. Seeing Newt happy made him happy. 

"Breckin!"

He turned to the sound of his name being called. Nick was hurrying towards him with Alby on his heels. "What's up, Nick?"

"Did you do that for Newt?" asked the leader.

Breckin nodded. "He was driving us bonkers in the med-hut, so, yeah, I made those for him."

"Do you think it's a good idea for him to be walking around after being in bed for so long?" Nick crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Breckin. "What happens if he falls over?"

"Then he falls over," Breckin replied with a slight shrug. "We've been practicing walking for a while now in the med-hut, and there are plenty of guys here to help him up if that happened," Breckin continued with an edge to his voice. "He needs to get up and start using his leg. His muscles will waste away if he doesn't."

"Will he be able to run again?" Nick demanded.

"No," Clint answered. "We do not have the necessary medical equipment so his injury was not properly set. He'll always have a limp, and he's lucky to have just that."

Nick looked from Clint to Breckin. "So he's going to be useless now?"

Breckin almost leaped on Nick if it had not been for Alby's warning glare. How dare the shucking leader of the Glade assume Newt would not be able to do anything anymore! "He'll never be useless," he growled.

"He can still work once he gets off the crutches," Clint added calmly.

"And what will he be able to do?" 

"We don't know right now." Clint moved so he was standing between Breckin and Nick. "But we promise Newt will still be useful."

Breckin bristled as Nick scoffed then marched off towards the Homestead. He turned to Alby. "The shuck is his problem?"

Alby shrugged. "I don't know. He's been like this since George died."

George had lived in the Glade before Breckin had been brought up. From what Newt had said, George was an argumentative pain in the ass. The best friend of Nick, he thought he could get away with anything. He was stung by a Griever - a strange creature that roamed the maze at night - when he was running and went insane. In the end, he had attacked another Glader so savagely that Alby had to take his life. The other boy had died not long afterwards from his wounds. All Clint would say when Breckin asked was that his wounds were horrific; the conversation was promptly switched after that. "That doesn't mean he should treat Newt like a shucking invalid!" Breckin snarled. 

"Stay calm, Breckin," Clint warned.

Due to him being his Keeper, Breckin had confided in Clint about his monster-skin transformations. At first, Clint had been skeptical, but he changed his mind when Alby showed him the letter from the creators. Breckin knew Clint was excited about the next transformation; he had made it clear that he wanted to witness the monster-skin.

"He's a shucking asshole."

Alby lightly smacked him on the back of the head. "He's still your leader."

"Doesn't mean I have to like him," Breckin muttered. Then his gaze fell upon Newt, who was laughing with a grinning Winston, and a small smile twitched at his lips. "At least Newt's happy."

Clint nodded agreement as Alby said, "Those crutches were a great idea. Are they a partner gift or something?"

Breckin choked on air. "W-What?"

Alby rolled his eyes. "Do you think we believed you when you said you were making those just 'cause you were tired of his nagging?" He and Clint exchanged a look. "It has to be more than that."

"It's not," Breckin insisted, though a blush burnt his cheeks.

"Have you two talked about it at all?"

Breckin shook his head. 

"You'll have to eventually," said Clint. He patted Breckin's arm in a comforting manner before retreating back to the med-hut. "Jeff better have those journals organized," he muttered.

Alby and Breckin stood side by side and stared across the Glade. Many of the others were still working their jobs, but some had crowded around Newt. From the grin on his face, he was happy to be around the others again. 

"We should be getting another greenie soon," Breckin commented offhandedly. 

Alby grunted an affirmative. "Tomorrow or the next day." He looked in the direction of the Box as he spoke. "How long will Newt have to be on the crutches?"  
Breckin shrugged. "Not sure. A while." He looked up at the second-in-command. "The more he uses them, the faster he'll heal." His gaze drifted back to Newt. The injured teen was pointing at Breckin with one of his crutches. Winston looked over at him and gave the thumbs-up. Breckin returned the gesture.

"Clint is right though, Breckin. You and him are going to have to talk about that partner situation."

"We tried, but things became awkward. I mean, have any of the other Gladers felt anything for another? No," he answered himself. "Wouldn't it seem weird to the others? Two of us being in a relationship?" He looked up at Alby. "Hell, Nick would probably have me kicked out of the med-hut if he knew."

"Nick does not have to know," Alby said. 

"And how long do you think Newt and I could hide it if we did accept we are partners? Nick has eyes all over this place." 

Alby sighed through his nose. "Breckin, it will be okay. No one has to know except Clint, Newt, you and me."

"It's like you're encouraging this."

"Maybe I am." Alby shrugged his broad shoulders. "All I know is that ever since you came to the Glade Newt has been a lot happier. His accident proved that the Glade was taking a toll on him. Shuck, he hardly smiled. Then you showed up." A rare smile graced Alby's face. "Look at him now."

"He's still a pain in the ass."

"Would you have him any other way?"

Breckin's gaze softened as he watched Newt. Somewhere in his mind, he knew the other teen was perfect for him. "No," said Breckin. "He's great just the way he is." He watched, amused, as Jeff walked out of the med-hut, heading towards Newt. They spoke for a moment, and Newt made a show of turning in a circle. Jeff's laugh rang through the Glade. Breckin smiled. 

Alby nudged his shoulder. "Come on, lover boy," he said with a chuckle.

Breckin pushed him back, laughing slightly. They started walking over to the Homestead; dinner would be done soon. Newt met them two-thirds of the way there, huffing and puffing from the effort but grinning from ear to ear. For the first time in ages Newt ate with the other Gladers. It became obvious to Breckin that Newt was rather well-liked; from how the others were speaking to him, they respected him. Breckin sat in silence, only speaking when spoken to, and ate with a smile on his face and his possible partner at his side. 

When night fell, Breckin had to almost drag Newt away from the Homestead. The blond had been showing signs of fatigue that he tried to mask under his happiness. But Breckin noticed the subtle signs: a rub of the eyes; a few long blinks, bringing his hand to his mouth to muffle a yawn. 

"I was having fun, you know," Newt grumbled.

"I know, I know." Breckin gently nudged Newt's good ankle when the other teen had paused. "You're tired, Newt. Keep fighting it, and you're going to fall over."

Newt snorted. "I have you to catch me, don't I?"

"I don't know. Watching you biff it may give me a good laugh. I'm kidding," he added hastily at Newt's heated but tired glare. "Come on, man. You can't tell me you're not tired."

"I'm not," Newt retorted, then promptly contradicted himself by yawning. "Shuck off," he grumbled when Breckin chuckled.

When they reached the med-hut, Breckin opened the door and held it open for Newt. The blond thanked him then hobbled over to his cot. Breckin helped him sit down. "Thanks again," Newt said as he set his crutches against the wall. "But, shuck, does it hurt after a while."

"I forgot to tell you to take it slow," Breckin said sheepishly.

Newt looked up at him. One of his hands was massaging the opposite armpit. He winced when he applied pressure. "How could you bloody forget something like that?"

"I was distracted," Breckin admitted, thinking about the kiss Newt had given him. 

"By my good looks?" Newt jested.

"Yes." His cheeks immediately started to burn. He had not meant to say that out loud. "Shuck..." He turned away from Newt to return to his own cot. A warm hand grabbing his wrist stopped him. 

"You think I'm good looking?"

Breckin nodded but did not look at Newt.

"You really feel something for me, don't you?" The joking tone had left his voice. In its place was a gruff whisper. 

"I don't know what the creators actually did to me, Newt, but I see you differently than I do the other Gladers." Once he started talking, Breckin could not stop. "You are special to me, and there's a sense of familiarity about you. You remind me of sunshine, warm and comforting. It makes me want to be near you. We both know, at least according to the letter, that we had known each other before we were placed here. It's just... confusing."

Newt was silent; Breckin felt a flicker of unease until Newt's grip tightened on his wrist. "There are so many others in the Glade. Why me?"

Breckin shrugged, finally turning a bit to look down at his blond roommate. "The monster side of me... It recognizes you... as my life partner. I don't know. Maybe it's destiny or some klunk?"

"Destiny?" Newt snorted with amusement. 

"I can't think of any other way."

Newt lips lifted in a small crooked smile. Breckin felt his breath catch in his throat. Before he could stop himself, Breckin had leaned over and pressed his lips against Newt's forehead. His heart sped up as he heard the blond's gasp of shock. He pulled away slowly, but just enough for his lips to graze Newt's hot flesh. "If it means anything, I think you would make a great life partner," he whispered. 

A hand cupped his cheek then guided his head down. Breckin caught sight of dark brown eyes before a mouth collided with his. Eyes slamming shut, Breckin felt an intense heat spark in his chest and grow until his entire body seemed to be consumed with flames. Blunt fingernails softly bit into his face when he tried to back away. Newt wasn't going to let him move. He sighed gently against the blond's lips. 

Newt hummed quietly, cocking his head a bit, forcing the kiss to deepen. Breckin's head spun. His heart beat was racing at a threatening speed, pounding loudly in his ears. Carefully, without breaking contact, Breckin sat down beside Newt. He carefully slid his right arm around Newt's skinny waist while his left hand buried itself in oily blond hair. Sunshine wreathed around him until it was all he could smell. Newt dropped his hands from Breckin's face to rest them on his shoulders. 

They were panting heavily when Breckin back away a bit to breathe. His hold on Newt never faltered. Within moments, Newt was surging forward to kiss him again. Breckin's throat vibrated with a soft moan. His tongue found the seam of Newt's lips and thrust its way through. Newt let out a squeak of surprise, but he did not back down from the challenge. 

Careful not to hurt him, Breckin lowered Newt onto his back, leaning over him. Newt's fingers had a tight grip on the back of his jacket. With one last groan, Breckin finally forced himself to separate from the other teen. They stared at each other; Newt's face was a sunburn bright red, and no doubt his looked the same. The space between them was filled with their panting as they fought for breath. Newt's arms dropped to his sides, and Breckin was able to sit up. He stared down at Newt. A soft smile twitched at his lips.

"Good-night," he murmured.

"Good-night." 

Breckin flashed a crooked smile. He leaned down once more to kiss Newt's forehead before slowly getting to his feet. As he stood, he became aware of a tightness in his jeans. He hoped the darkness would hide it. As he turned his back he could hear Newt sit up and shimmy out of his jeans. "Bloody hell," he heard him mutter. Breckin's smile melted into a soft smirk as he went back to his own cot. He lied down and cuddled into his jacket. Slowly his jeans became less restrictive, but it left him with a yearning feeling. He rolled onto his side to face Newt. 

The other teen was also on his side, staring at him with half-lidded eyes. He reached out a hand, and Breckin did not hesitate to take it. They laced their fingers together. They smiled at each other. 

It was a sudden step in their relationship, fueled by a driven need to be near each other; a least that's what Breckin believed.

But it was a step forward, nonetheless.


	17. The Outing

It was the night of the full moon. 

Alby and Clint led the way to the far side of the Deadheads, close to the wall. Breckin followed at a slower pace so Newt was not left behind. He paused for what felt like the twentieth time as Newt's crutches caught on yet another tangle of brambles. 

"Don't," Newt grumbled when Breckin opened his mouth. "I said I wanted to see this, and I bloody damned will." He yanked his crutch out of the brambles. "Shucking plants." Breckin snorted a soft laugh, earning a glare from his partner. 

For the past month, he and Newt had grown closer, forming a secret relationship. They only showed affection towards each other when no one was around, which was hard to do in a Glade filled with other teenagers. But they made it work, somehow.

"Are you sure you're not tired?" Breckin asked again.

Newt rolled his eyes and pushed forward. Breckin smiled as he watched his partner plough through the undergrowth. He was getting stronger with each passing day; he could damn near sprint on those crutches. Breckin fought back a laugh as he recalled when Alec had pissed him off, asking him some questions, and Newt had chased him around the Homestead on those wooden sticks. 

"Breckin! Come on!" called Alby from further ahead. "The moon'll be here any minute."

He hurried after Newt, wanting to be in the deeper part of the Deadheads before his monster-skin took over. Already he could feel the bizarre tingling starting to creep up his arms and down his legs. 

When they reached the spot, Breckin promptly toed off his shoes. Earlier he had changed out of his jeans and replaced them with a pair of loose, black shorts. His jacket was still on but unzipped so he could breath. He quietly relished the feel of the light breeze against his bare chest.

"Newt, Clint, over here." Alby motioned them over to a few boulders. Newt scrambled over the best he could and took a seat on the lowest rock, resting his crutches beside him. His dark eyes stared intently at him. 

Sighing quietly, Breckin glanced up at the gap between the tree branches and the wall. The bright light of the moon was starting to peek over the concrete. He turned to the pile of rocks where his partner and friends were sitting. "Are you sure, Newt?"

Tne blonde gave an exaggerated eyeroll and a frustrated sigh, and Alby nudged his shoulder. "Yes," Newt said. "I'm bloody shucking sure."

Breckin flashed a crooked smile a second before it fell into a grimace of pain. Changing into his monster-skin did not seem as painful this time. As his body morphed, he could feel Newt's heated gaze burning him. He bent over double, growling under his breath. "It's hurting him." He could just hear Newt over the rapid pounding of his heart. "Can't you do anything for him?"

"There's nothing we can do," replied Clint, "except wait."

Moments later, Breckin sagged in relief when the pain stopped. He sucked in a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, then slowly looked up. 

Newt was staring at him with wide eyes. His mouth had dropped open. His hands were clenched into fists on his thighs. 

Breckin whined quietly, feeling intense shame. He knew this would be too much for Newt. His partner would most likely reject him now that he's seen what he could become. He wrapped his muscled arms around his torso and tried to shrink in on himself. He lowered his gaze to the ground. 

"You know, when you said 'monster,' I was expecting way worse."

His ears pricked up at his partner's voice. 

"Can you understand us?" Clint asked slowly.

Breckin nodded.

"Remember, Clint, that's still Breckin in there," Alby reminded the med-jack. "His brain stays human."

Clint nodded and wrote something down in the notebook he had brought. 

"Come here, Breckin."

He stared at Newt. He wanted him to come closer? Slowly, claws dragging in the dirt, Breckin moved closer until he was almost nose-to-nose with his partner. The warm scent of sunshine filled his nostrils. A low growl rumbled up from his chest. Newt inhaled sharply. 

"You good, Breckin?" Alby sounded wary.

He nodded. Slowly as to not scare Newt, he leaned forward a bit and gently bumped their noses. Then he sat down on his haunches in front of the blond teen, arms propping up his torso, head cocked a bit to the side.

"And this will last all night?" Newt asked, holding out a hand.

"Just until the moon goes over the other wall," Alby replied as Breckin took Newt's hand in his larger one. The contrast of a smooth palm against coarse fur was weird but not unpleasant. Breckin watched Newt explore his hand. "Then he sheds all this off. Made a mess in the slammer last month."

Breckin flashed his best sheepish smile. 

Newt carefully took hold of his index finger. "I can imagine," he said as he touched the tip of Breckin's claw. "So do you still think I don't care about you?" he asked, looking up. Breckin looked away. A warm hand touched his cheek, guiding his gaze forward. Newt was smiling at him. "You're a right pain the ass. Did you know that?" He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. 

Breckin closed his eyes with a gruff rumble. 

Newt had accepted him. All of him. 

That shadowy part of his brain that normally whined from the loneliness howled in triumph and joy.

It was short-lived. 

A scream of pure terror sliced through the still night air. 

Breckin jumped, accidently bumping Newt and sending him sprawling onto the boulder. He spun around, eyes wide and searching. 

There!

It was Vince!

The Builder was standing a few yards away, partially obscured by the surrounding trees. His eyes were almost popping out of his head. A stain was growing on the legs of his jeans; an acrid scent abruptly replaced Newt's in his nose.

Breckin bared his teeth in a growl, crouching low in front of Newt. What was the Builder doing here? No one else was supposed to see this! What the hell was he doing?

"Vince!" Alby appeared at Breckin's side. He held his arm out in front of him as a warning. "What the hell are you doing out here?" The second-in-command's voice was stern. "I told you to stay in the Homestead."

The Builder looked past Alby to Breckin. "I-I knew there was some-something wrong with you!" he accused, ignoring Alby, pointing a shaky finger at Breckin. "You're... You're a monster!" With that, Vince whipped around and raced into the surrounding trees. "Nick! NICK!"

Breckin's lips curled in a snarl. His muscles bunched as he prepared to lunge after the retreating teen, but a familiar body landed on his back. Somehow, someway, Newt had found the strength to push himself off the boulder and land on his shoulders. His legs wavered a bit under the added weight. He looked over his shoulder at his partner, who was clinging to his fur with clenched fists. 

"Don't," Newt hissed in his ear. "You can't hurt another Glader."

Breckin snorted in disbelief but remained still. His instinct was to chase after the nosy Glader and prevent him from spilling his secret. Even now, Breckin could hear the screams for their leader. He sighed through his nose. He was done for; once Nick knew about this, he would be banished to the maze. He would be banished from Newt. He whined quietly.

"It's okay," Newt soothed, gently nuzzling into Breckin's shoulder blade. "I'm here."

He felt a wave of happiness and relief even under these circumstances.

"What are we going to do?" Clint asked as he hopped off his boulder. "Every shuck-head in the Glade probably knows about this by now."

Alby shook his head. "I don't know." He turned to look at Breckin and Newt. "We'll think of something."

Shouts could be heard from the direction of the Homestead. The four exchanged looks of shock and concern. Breckin huffed and backed away from the noise. Newt's grip tightened as he moved. 

"Through here! I'm telling you, he's a monster, Nick!"

Frantic crashing through the undergrowth joined the yelling. Moments later, Nick, Vince and a few others were standing on the other side the clearing. Some were holding thick rope in their hands. All eyes, wide with fear or narrowed in rage, stared at him. Breckin snarled when Nick stepped closer.

"Easy," Newt whispered in his ear.

"Someone want to explain what the shuck is going on here?" Nick demanded.

"It's Breckin! He's a shucking monster!" Vince squealed.

Nick's piercing gaze made Breckin nervous. His fur stood on end. There was a shuffling on his right. Just as he turned to look, a rope shot of the darkness and lassoed his arm. Breckin snarled as the rope was tightened. Something wrapped around his other arm. His gaze snapped to the left. Another rope.

"Careful! He has Newt hostage!"

"What the shuck? I'm not a bloody hostage!" Newt clambered higher up Breckin's back then rested his chin on his shoulder. 

"Someone grab him!"

One of the Gladers rushed behind Breckin. Clumps of fur were yanked from his shoulders as Newt was forcefully removed. He snarled and tried to turn around, but another rope was thrown around his neck. There was sharp yank. Breckin tripped over his own feet and fell to the dirt with a loud thump. His arms were pulled out from underneath him. He spat out a mouthful of earth. 

"Let him go! He won't hurt us!" Newt's pleas fell on deaf ears. 

"Tie him up!"

"He was sent by the creators to kill us!"

"No!"

Breckin turned his head in the direction of Newt's voice. His partner was struggling against the hold of Ben. He snarled, failing to notice the boot that was heading for his face until it was too late. A sharp crack echoed in his head and stars glittered before his eyes. The ropes around his forearms tightened; tingles raced through his muscles.

"Stop it!" Newt screamed. "You're hurting him!"

"What is going on here?!" Nick demanded, planting his boot on the back to Breckin's head, shoving him further into the dirt. 

"It's Breckin," Alby said; it was obvious he was trying to stay calm. "He won't hurt anyone, Nick. His body has changed, but his mind is stable."

"And how do you know that?"

"The creators left a note with Breckin when he arrived in the Glade," Alby confessed.

"Why the hell wasn't I informed?"

"It was addressed to me. We were going to let you know as soon as possible."

Nick snorted. "Unlikely," he muttered. "You've kept this a secret from me, your leader, for over two months! Give me a reason why I shouldn't banish the lot of you."

Clint's muddy sneakers appeared in Breckin's slim line of vision. "He is harmless," his Keeper said. "He's still Breckin, and every one in the Glade knows he would not hurt anyone." 

"He's a monster!" one of the other cried.

"Kill him!"

"Ouch! Son of a bitch!"

Sunshine penetrated the dirt that filled his nose. He heard something scramble over to him, then a weight crawled over his back. 

"Newt! Get away from him!"

"He'll kill you!"

"He won't bloody kill me, you shuck-faces!"

"But we saw - "

"Leave my mate alone!"

Time seemed to stand still. Breckin's heart started to race; whether it was in relief or fear, he did not know. A hush fell over the others. Breckin could feel their glares burn his fur. He could only imagine the look of defiance on Newt's face. He could feel his muscles bunch in anticipation against his back. Newt must not have been thinking when he shouted their secret.

"Your mate?" Nick's voice was hushed. He sounded like he was struck with disbelief. "Your - Your mate! What the shuck are you talking about?"

"In the letter from the creators, it was written that Breckin and I are partners," Newt said. His voice was strong, but Breckin could feel him quivering with uncertainty. 

"You knew about the letter too?"

"Yes."

An uproar of shock and rage came from the others. Then Nick's voice rose above the rest. "I am the leader! I must be informed about everything that happens in the Glade!" He must have given a signal because the ropes tightened even more; Breckin felt as if pins and needles were stabbing his large hands. "A boy can not be partners with another boy! It's wrong!"

"Says you!" Newt retorted. 

Breckin felt a flash of savage satisfaction as Newt bravely stood up to their leader. His partner was a feisty one, that's for sure. He growled quietly. 

"Get away from him, Newt!"

"No."

"That was a command!" 

Again, Newt did not move. "Leave. Him. Alone."

Suddenly Newt's weight was gone. He shouted curses as he was dragged away. Breckin snarled loudly at the loss of his partner's warmth. With a mighty heave, Breckin launched himself to his feet. The ropes that held his hands were tugged from the Gladers' grips. Yells of fear and pain made his ears ache as he spun around in a circle, glaring at the Gladers that had surrounded him. Then he saw Newt. He was sprawled against a boulder, chest heaving as he fought for breath. Blood was soaking through the right thigh of his jeans. 

Someone had hurt him.

Someone had hurt his mate.

With a howling roar, Breckin charged forward. A sharp yank around his neck made him stumble. His breathing was cut off as the rope tightened. He fell back to the ground onto his back. 

"Breckin!"

Something collided with the side of his head.

Dots and stars filled his vision then darkness.


	18. The Exile

A chilly breeze and the smell of wet grass roused Breckin. His muscles were so sore... Even his eyelids protested when he tried to separate them. Slowly he became aware that he was in an awkward position. He was on his side, but his hands were bound in rope behind his back. His jacket was askew; the hoodie was resting again his neck. The chill from the ground soaked through his shorts. 

He shivered.

Finally after several attempts he managed to open his eyes.

Sunlight was shining down on him, but he did not feel the warmth. The tall grasses fluttered in the breeze. Tufts of brown fur littered the area around him.

What happened?

A sharp pain pierced his brain as he tried to recall last night. He caught glimpses of Newt, Alby and Clint, then Nick and several of the other Gladers. Then he remembered the way Newt had been illuminated by the light of the full moon. He remembered Newt calling him his mate. 

Newt...

Newt!

Breckin lifted his head the best he could but it was in vain. All he could see was the waving grass. His head dropped back to the earth. He whined quietly; the shadowy part of his brain was depressed from being separated from his partner. 

"Nick!"

The sharp shout hurt Breckin's ears. He cringed into himself as a shadow fell over him. 

"He's awake!"

Breckin turned his head to look up at whomever had yelled. 

Vince.

Nick's little snitch-bitch.

Curling his lip, Breckin snarled at the other teen. A harsh kick to the ribs shut him up. He coughed as he fought for the air that had been driven from his lungs. Footsteps approached them at a rapid pace; he guessed a few others were with the leader. He blinked and looked upwards out of the corner of his eye.

Nick was standing over him with Alby and Clint flanking him on either side. His light blue eyes stared down at him. "Morning, Breckin." There was no warmth in his voice, which did not surprise him at all. "Did you sleep well?"

"Just... peachy," he wheezed. 

"Glad to hear that." Nick squatted down. "You caused quite a bit of trouble last night."

"I fail... to see what... I did wrong."

"I am the leader around here, Breckin, and I expect to be told what is happening in the Glade. You kept the fact that you're a monster from me. Was that deliberate?"

"Yes," Breckin said. What was the point of lying anymore? Everyone in the Glade must know by now. 

"And why would you do that?"

"Because... of what... is happening... right now," Breckin wheezed. "It would not've... mattered... if it was... two months ago... yesterday... or three shucking years... in the future. You'd still... tie me up and... treat me like an animal. "He took in a few deep breaths; the pain in his ribs subsided a bit.

Nick's light blue eyes bore into his. "What about this ordeal with Newt?" he asked, frowning. "How long did you think that would have lasted, your little secret relationship?"

"We kept it hidden for three weeks." Breckin paused to cough. "Would've been longer if your squealer had not've screamed like a bitch." 

Nick looked up at the others. "We'll have a meeting tonight. Lock him in the Slammer until then." He rose to his feet and walked away. Vince followed after shooting a nasty smile at Breckin.

"Shucking bastards," Breckin called after them. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Shuck him. And shuck his followers."

"Come on, Breckin." Large hands grabbed his shoulders and heaved him to his bare feet. Opening his eyes, Breckin was met with the stern face of the second-in command. "Let's go."

"I haven't done anything wrong. Why the hell is this happening?"

"We know you didn't do anything," Alby said, releasing his hold on Breckin when he found his footing.

Breckin turned slightly to look at him. "Is Newt okay?" He wobbled a bit, and Clint appeared at his side to steady him. "Is Nick punishing him too?"

"No," his Keeper replied. "Nick believes Newt's busted leg is punishment enough."

"Of course he does," Breckin muttered. 

Clint continued on as if Breckin had not spoken, "Newt was a mess after they tied you up. Tried to smack some of the others away with his crutches. Kept yelling at them to get away from you. Winston had to take him back to the med-hut." 

"Sounds like him," Breckin commented as he was led back to the Homestead. He glanced at his Keeper. "Let me guess, Nick doesn't want us to see each other?"

Clint nodded though he was frowning. "Newt threw a fit when Nick told him to stay away from you. It's wrong to keep you guys apart."

Breckin fell silent as his superiors led him across the Glade to the Slammer. His eyes fell upon the med-hut, where Newt was, and he paused. Before he could speak, Alby shook his head. "Nick said no, Breckin."

"Just for a minute," Breckin pleaded. "I need to let him know I'm okay."

"We'll let him know."

Breckin growled at the second-in-command, but quickly fell silent when Alby shot him a look. He sighed quietly. All he wanted to do was hold Newt close and tell him everything was going to be okay; instead he was being locked up for something that was out of his control. His bare feet made scores in the dirt as he was dragged away from the med-hut. 

Alby opened the Slammer door when they reached it. Clint untied Breckin's hands before gently pushing him inside. He retreated to the shadowy far side of the pseudo-jail, rubbing his wrists to the relieve the pain from the rope. He sat down and leaned his back against the wall. The gazes of his superiors were ignored. Wrapping his jacket closer around his torso, Breckin closed his eyes. 

It wasn't fair.

He couldn't help what the creators had done to him. 

This wasn't his fault.

He heard Alby and Clint walk away, leaving him in his solitude. 

For hours he hardly moved, except to get up to piss in the bucket a Slopper had provided him. He ignored any attempts from the others to talk to him. Words would just be a waste right now. Nick had influence over almost everyone in the Glade, so Breckin could easily guess what they must have thought about him by now.

Then, there was one voice that caught his attention.

"Breckin?" Something shuffled right outside the wall next to his head. He opened his eyes and looked through the vines. Familiar brown eyes stared back. 

"Newt," was all Breckin could say as pangs of relief and joy surged through him. He twisted his body to face the wall. On the other side he could see Newt was crouching close to the ground. His crutches were nowhere to be seen. He reached a hand through an opening in the wall. Newt took his hand in his then pressed Breckin's palm against his cheek. The warmth seeped into Breckin's chilled bones. 

"You didn't do anything wrong," Newt muttered, "so why the shuck are you in there?"

"Nick ordered it. I guess he thought I was dangerous."

"What about the note from the creators? It could prove your innocence."

Breckin shook his head. "I doubt Nick cares. All he sees is a monster. And he's the shucking leader; he had to make a decision that would not make him look bad to the others." He gently stroked Newt's cheekbone with his thumb. "How did you know I was here?"

"Clint told me."

"Of course he did. Where are your crutches?"

Newt snorted. "Do you honestly think I would have gone unnoticed with those shucking things? I left them in the med-hut."

"But your ankle - "

"Worth it." Newt smiled slightly, then frowned. "When are you allowed out?"

"I'm not sure. Nick is holding a meeting later to decide my fate." Breckin sighed quietly. "If the creators hadn't have injected me with that klunk, we wouldn't be in this mess." He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this, Newt." A warm hand gently touched the side of his face.

"How many times are you going to apology?" Newt asked. "I didn't reject you a month ago, so why the hell would I now?" Breckin nuzzled into his hand. "You're not a monster."

Breckin opened his eyes and smiled slightly. "Partners?"

"Like you have to bloody ask."

Something about Newt's reply tried to spark something in Breckin's brain. It was like they had this conversation before. He mentally shook away the thought. "You need to go back to the med-hut, Newt. You don't want to get caught talking to me."

"Like I give a shuck."

"You will if Nick catches you."

Breckin froze, and he felt Newt's palm grow sweaty against his face. He slowly looked up through the vines at the stern face of Alby. Newt followed his gaze, mouth dropping open. 

"You're not very discrete, Newt." The second-in-command squatted down beside the injured teen. "You were told to stay away from the Slammer. Nick's orders."

"'Nick's orders,'" Newt mimicked him. "Shuck Nick's orders. He's been a pain in the arse since he arrived here. Breckin did nothing wrong, and you shucking know it."  
Alby held Newt's fiery gaze for a moment then sighed. "He's still the leader, Newt, even if we don't agree to his objectives." He peered at Breckin. "The meeting will be held soon."

"What's going to happen?"

"There's been talk that he wants to toss you into the maze."

"What?" asked Breckin and Newt at the same time. 

"They can't do that," Newt growled.

"Nick has a great influence over many in the Glade. He'll do what he can to not be viewed as the bad guy."

"He's a bigger asshole then Gally," Breckin muttered. "What does he think will happen to Newt if I am thrown out? We've all read the letter." Breckin shuddered at the thought of going mad. The creators had warned them that his sanity would start chipping away if separated from his partner for too long. 

"Hey."

Breckin looked at Newt. 

"It'll be okay," his partner reassured him. Newt's smile chased away most of Breckin's worries. 

A sigh from Alby caught Breckin's attention. The older teen was glancing around as if searching for something. "Come on," he muttered to Newt, nudging him. Breckin whined as Alby helped Newt to his feet. He lost sight of them as they walked away. His rested his forehead against a support vine, closing his eyes, drinking in the fading sunshine scent. 

The door to the Slammer opened.

Breckin's eyes flew open and he whipped around. His heart began to race as Alby led a heavily limping Newt into the small space. Breckin scrambled to his feet, slipping on a few twigs that were scattered across the dirt floor, and rushed over to them. Alby had just barely taken a step away from Newt when Breckin had his arms around the blond. He buried his face in his neck, sucking in lungfuls of his partner's smell. Arms circled his waist. Blunt nails dug into his jacket, holding onto his shoulders.

"I'll give you a few minutes," Alby said.

"Thanks," Newt murmured in a sincere tone. Breckin mumbled his thanks as well. Alby left, shutting the door behind him, and Breckin shivered as Newt pressed their bodies together. He could feel his partner's heart beating harshly against his bare chest. "Breckin."

Breckin backed away enough to kiss his mate. It started out soft, just a gentle caress of the lips, a reassurance they both needed. 

It didn't last long. 

The simple kiss paved the way for an inferno of emotions. At some point they had dropped to the ground, Newt straddling Breckin's hips, mouths clashing in a fiery fury. Breckin held Newt close to him, groaning quietly as his partner rolled his hips against his. He broke from the kiss to bite down on Newt's exposed neck. Newt whimpered, leaning his head back to give him better access. Heat enveloped them as they rutted against each other. Newt panted, and Breckin could taste his sweat as his mouth sucked a small mark just below his ear. Newt moved faster. Breckin shivered.

"Sh-Shuck," Newt cursed, leaning forward to rest his chin on Breckin's shoulder. "Breckin."

Breckin hummed against Newt's neck. His hands dropped to the other teen's hips. With a groan, he pressed their clothed, aching cocks together. Newt's breath became shallow in his ear, soft whispers of encouragement driving him on. Then Newt suddenly shuddered as he released a breathless moan. A dampness soaked through his pants into Breckin's shorts. They sat in silence, panting to catch their breath. 

"You... You okay?" Breckin asked, running his hands up and down Newt's back. 

Newt muttered a quiet confirmation. "What about you?" he whispered.

"Don't worry about me," Breckin replied then placed another kiss on Newt's flushed neck. "I'll be alright." Though he didn't want Newt to feel bad, the straining need in his shorts was kind of painful. 

"They can't banish you," Newt said when he caught his breath a few moments later. "I'll beat their arses with my crutches."

Breckin snorted. "I want to see that." Newt shivered in his arms, and he held him closer. "It'll be okay, Newt," he promised quietly. 

Newt didn't answer, just held onto him. Breckin sighed quietly. The tightness in his shorts faded as the excitement that had coursed through his body was replaced with worry. He knew Nick would sacrifice him to the maze if given the chance. Something about the older teen did not sit well with Breckin. He was too controlling, and always seemed to be looking for an excuse to become more popular to the other Gladers.

The door opened again not long after they had completely calmed down. Breckin looked over as Alby and Minho stepped into the Slammer. There was smirk on Minho's face, and Breckin arched a brow at him. Alby was frowning a bit for some reason, and glanced at Minho after a moment. Breckin heard him hiss a "Shut up!" to the other teen. Then Alby turned to them. "It's time, Breckin." 

He sighed. Newt's hold tightened ever so slightly. Neither wanted to move. Alby stepped over and helped Breckin lift the blond, who had to reluctantly let go. The medical scrub top he was wearing dropped to about mid-thigh level, effectively hiding any evidence of what had just taken place. Minho's smirk unnerved Breckin, and, as he passed him, he frowned at the still smiling Runner. "The shuck you on about?" Breckin hissed.

Minho's smirk grew a bit bigger. "Thinking of ways to soundproof the Slammer," he muttered back. 

A blush burned Breckin's cheeks. He turned away from the other teen; he would get revenge on him some other time. When they stepped outside of the Slammer, Breckin blinked in the sunlight. Minho held up a bit of rope. 

"Gotta tie you up, bro," he said. 

"Minho, I'll take Newt to the med-hut. Go ahead and get Breckin to the meeting."

"Aye, aye, boss man." Minho said with a mock salute. "Wait. Wait a moment. Should I knot it with a bow? You know, so Newt can unwrap him later?" he asked, waving the rope around. 

Alby grumbled in the Runner's name in a warning. Newt's pale face flushed a deep red. Breckin slammed his open palm against his face to hide his mortificatioin.   
"Just get going," Alby gruffly commanded, walking away with Newt.

Breckin stared after them for a moment then turned back to a grinning Minho, who was still waving the rope. "Get on with it," Breckin muttered, putting his hands behind his back.

"You know, I'm okay with the two of you being together," Minho said as he wrapped the rope around Breckin's wrists. "Just don't start shucking in the Homestead."

"Even if I don't get banished today, that would never happen."

"So, instead, you're gonna put the 'slam' in 'Slammer?'"

"Keep it up and you're going to put the 'dead' in "Deadheads.'" Breckin shot a glare over his shoulder at Minho, who snickered. 

Hands now tied, Breckin was led to the Homestead. Some of the other Gladers were milling about in front of it; all of them looked at Breckin as if he had grown a second head. He ignored the stares though he felt uncomfortable. Minho gently pushed him forward through the opened door. The scent of food drifted from the eating room, and Breckin's stomach gurgled loudly, reminding him that he had not eaten all day.

Minho gave him a sympathetic look but nudged him to the other door, the one that normally remained locked. He pushed it open with his shoulder. Breckin was led into a windowless room that looked as if had been added on to the Homestead. A bench circled the perimeter of it. Support poles made from branchless trees held up the thatched roof. 

Breckin sat down on the bench near the end of the room opposite the door. He sighed quietly and stared up at the Runner. Minho was leaning against a support pole in front of him. "So what's going to happen?"

Minho glanced at the door. "Nick is going to address the problem, which is you. He'll let you speak, then we'll decided what's in your future."

"You know I'm not a monster, right?"

"You're not a monster," Minho said, "but you are a furry pain in the ass."

Breckin scoffed, shuffling his bare feet on the dirt floor. "It can't be helped," he muttered. 

The door opened again, and Nick stepped in the room with Alby on his heels. Then, one by one, the Keepers joined them. They stood or sat in a semi-circle around Breckin. He tried not to look intimidated by their intense stares.

"Breckin." Nick stood in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. "Do you know why we are here?"

"Yes."

"For those who have not heard, Breckin is not the same as us." Nick glanced at the Keepers. "When he arrived in the Glade, he had a letter from the creators on him. On it was vital information, information that was kept from the rest of us." He uncrossed his arms to gesture at Breckin. "He was given some sort of medicine that changes him. He turns into... a monster."

The Keepers muttered quietly among themselves. Breckin looked off to the side, not wanting to face them. The whispering stopped; Nick must have signaled for silence. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but last night was your second transformation within the walls, wasn't it?"

Breckin nodded. 

Winston's stare caught Breckin's attention; the Keeper of the Slicers seemed more curious than afraid. "You could become a monster, yet you didn't attack us."

"My brain is human even in the monster skin," Breckin said to Winston. "I have total control over it."

"That was not the only thing written by the creators," Nick continued as if Breckin and Winston had not spoken. "Apparently, Breckin had a special person before he came to the Glade. A mate. A partner." Breckin narrowed his eyes at Nick, but the leader said it anyways, "His partner is Newt."

The muttering started up again. 

"He and Newt, together?"

"Why?"

"That's so unusual."

"Breckin, what do you have to say for yourself?" He looked up at Gally. The Keeper of the Builders was sitting on the bench not far away, arms crossed, a stern scowl on his face. "Well?"

Breckin sighed quietly before speaking, "It's true that I have a monster skin. It takes over in the light of the full moon. I do not know what the creators shot into my veins, but I have control over it. My body changes, but my mind stays the same, as I've already said. As for Newt..." Breckin sighed again. "It's true. He is my partner, my other half. According to the creators, the monster side of me picked him." He fell silent as the Keepers stared at him. 

"We've never had two guys together before," Billy murmured from the shadows. 

"It's not right," Nick said with a solemn shake of his head. His theatrics were really starting to get on Breckin's nerves. "Two guys don't belong together. You must be confused with a female partner from before."

Something about this conversation seemed familiar to Breckin. For a brief moment, Nick was replaced by an older man with a balding head and steely blue-grey eyes. Breckin blinked, and the vision was gone.

"Do you have anything else to say on your behalf?"

Breckin shook his head. "Only that I am innocent." There were no more secrets to spill. They knew everything. At that moment, Breckin wanted Newt. He wanted to be in the med-hut with the blond, possibly lying together on one of their cots, enjoying each other's company. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away from the arguing. For a moment he could smell Newt's sunshine scent. It brought a little comfort. 

"I'm the leader!" Nick's voice jolted Breckin from his thoughts. He opened his eyes and looked at the tall blond. He was staring at Minho, who was glaring at his leader. He must have missed something while lost in his thoughts.

"Just because you're the leader doesn't mean klunk," Minho snapped, glaring at the taller blond. Something about the seriousness the Runner possessed unnerved him somewhat. "Breckin is not going to attack anyone in the Glade. He would have done so already."

"There's no call for banishment," Lee agreed. He turned to look at Breckin. "The scent of blood does not even effect him like it would a true predator."

"How the hell do you know that?" Gally demanded.

"It's called 'pick up a book and read,' you blockhead."

Breckin felt the tension in the air as the arguments became more heated. It seemed, fortunately, that many of them did not want Breckin banished, arguing that he was not a danger to anyone. He shivered a bit. 

"Fine!" Nick's commanding tone boomed through the small room. "Three days in the Slammer for now. One meal a day." He turned his blue eyes to Breckin. "The next full moon you will be tied to a tree in the Deadheads. Newt is not allowed to go near him."

"You can't do that!" Breckin said, catching everyone's attention. 

Nick narrowed his eyes at him. "Do you want to be banished instead?"

"If I'm not near him, my mind could possibly become feral."

"It's a chance I'm willing to take." Nick narrowed his eyes. "We have plenty of ways to keep you away from him."

Breckin glared at the leader for a moment longer then dropped his head in defeat. 

"This meeting is over."

Minho nudged his shin with his foot. "Come on." He helped Breckin to his feet. "That could have been way worse," he commented once they were outside of the Homestead. "You know, if you be good, I'll try to sneak Newt in to see you."

Breckin shook his head. "We're already in enough trouble, now that they all know we're together," Breckin muttered. "I don't want to make it worse."

"Your partner's not going to be happy about this. Looks like Alby's going to tell him." Minho nodded towards the med-hut. Breckin looked up just in time to see the second-in-command go inside. A few moments passed, then they heard a shouted curse. Breckin winced. "See? He's definitely not happy."

Breckin just sighed and continued towards the Slammer. "He'll be okay," he said, defeated. "He has you guys."

"None of us are partnered to him." `Minho opened the door to the Slammer. "Turn." Breckin turned his back to the Runner, and Minho untied his the rope. Breckin twisted his wrists, making his joints pop. "In you get."

"I hate this cage," Breckin snarled. 

Minho sighed audibly before shutting and locking the door. "It won't be for ever."

"Says you."

"Oh klunk."

Breckin turned to Minho, but the other teen was staring wide-eyed to the left. He followed his gaze and felt his heart start to race. Newt was scuttling as fast as he could manage to the Slammer. His dark eyes were glittering with rage. Breckin actually gulped in slight fear.

"Breckin!"

"Bro... Your mate is scary when he's pissed."

"You've known him longer than I have, at least in the Glade. Haven't you seen him angry before?"

"Not this angry," Minho said. 

They stood in silence as Newt hurried over to them with Alby on his heels. The injured teen snapped something over his shoulder at the second-in-command. Alby frowned but slid in front of Newt. The blond raised one of his crutches as if threatening to strike him. With a sigh, Alby stepped to the side to let Newt pass. 

Breckin curled his fingers around the bars of the cage. "Newt, go back to the med-hut," Breckin advised when Newt was within earshot. 

"You shouldn't be in there," Newt growled, coming to stand in front of Breckin. "This is bloody stupid!"

"Newt, love, go back before you get in trouble."

"Do you think I give a flying shuck about what Nick said?" Dark brown eyes glittered with annoyance and anger. "I bloody know he's read the creators' note. He knows we need to have some sort of contact."

Breckin reached through the vines to gently cup Newt's face. He offered a smile he knew looked fake. "It'll be okay. I'll be out of here in three days. Then we can deal with that asshole together."

Minho rested a hand on Newt's shoulder. "Come on, man." 

"Go, Newt," Breckin urged, though it felt like his heart was being diced into tiny pieces. 

Newt held his gaze for a few moments longer then sighed. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Breckin nodded. "I'll be here," he said in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

"You should be with me," Newt muttered before turning his head to kiss Breckin's palm. The warmth from the simple gesture chased some of the sadness away. He knew they would be together again soon. 

"I will be. I promise."

With a final longing look, Newt allowed Minho to guide him back to Alby. Breckin watched them walk away. He rested his forehead against one of the bars of the Slammer. Newt's scent still lingered in the air, and he drank it in greedily. He knew he would not sleep well without the other near him. He had grown used to looking over at the other cot in the middle of the night to watch his partner sleep. The peaceful expressions he would make in his sleep would set Breckin's heart a-twitter.   
His gaze drifted past the med-hut to the maze wall. The gap was still opened, and would be for at least two more hours. For a brief moment, he was actually thankful Nick had not thrown him into the ever-changing labyrinth. 

When his forehead started to hurt from being pressed against the vines, Breckin backed away and walked to the dark corner he slept in the previous night. There were still scuff marks from when he shoved twigs out of the spot with his bare feet. He sat down and sighed quietly. Closing his eyes, he felt the weight of everything crash down on his shoulders.

Three days. 

Only three days.

Then they would be together again.


	19. The Fight

A sudden pressure over his mouth forced Breckin from his dream of Newt. His eyes snapped open. For a brief moment he still saw Newt outlined by the full moon, eyes glittering with happiness, then it was replaced by a face Breckin did not want to see. 

Nick was squatting over his body, hand pressed against his mouth. Breckin started to struggle, but something tightened unbearably around his shins. Then he felt the sharp edge of a blade being pressed against his neck. He seized all movement, staring wide-eyed at the blond above him. One wrong move, or even a twitched of his head, and the knife would cut into him.

"Scream, and I'll cut you."

Heart still racing, Breckin narrowed his eyes at the Gladers' leader. What the shuck was going on?! He growled and snapped his teeth in warning. Nick roughly slapped him across the face. Breckin growled around the hand as the stinging pain engulfed his cheek. 

"Get up, and stay quiet."

Nick moved to the side and grabbed the hood of Breckin's jacket. With the knife still against his flesh, Breckin stood up slowly. Vince and a few other Gladers were waiting at the door. Breckin tried to take a step away, but the rope around his shins prevented him from walking normally. Another Glader, a Builder named Jason, came up to Breckin and Nick with a length of cloth in his hands. Quickly, he stuffed part of the gag in Breckin's mouth then tied the ends in a knot at the back of his head. Several strands of hair were painfully yanked out as they were caught in the process; Breckin tried to bite him, and he was struck again. 

Vince glanced at his wristwatch. "We have five minutes, Nick," he said with a sort of eagerness that made Breckin twitch. 

"Let's go." Nick shoved Breckin forward. "If you even think about turning into your monster skin, I'll kill you." 

Breckin almost shivered at the malice in the leader's voice. He had no choice but to be led out of and away from the Slammer. The sky was starting to darken; Breckin guessed it was around dinner time, which meant no one was around to see what Nick was doing. The tall grass scratched at his bare feet as he was marched across the Glade. They were leading him to the nearest gap in the stone walls. He tried to protest through the gag. A sharp snap of a branch across his back brought that to an abrupt stop. He shot a glare at the Glader who struck him.

"I'm sorry I have to do this, Breckin," said Nick, though he did not sound sorry at all, "but you are a danger to others." He stopped walking when they reached the gap. His blue eyes were narrowed when he looked at Breckin. "This is for the best." He looked over Breckin's shoulder and signaled to someone with a nod. The rope was untied. "Get going," Nick snarled, shoving Breckin closer to the maze. 

Breckin stared at the stone corridor that lie ahead. This was the closest he had been to any gaps since coming to the Glade. A thundering rumble filled the air, and Breckin could hear the metallic click of giant gears moving. The door was starting to close. Breckin's eyes widened with fear as the gap began to get smaller and smaller. He turned to Nick. "Please don't."

Nick just shook his head.

A rough push from behind sent Breckin sprawling on the ground. Rocks and debris scratched at his bare chest and hands. He winced then felt a flash of fright when he realized he was lying on the track. Jeers and hoots came from the small crowd as Breckin scrambled over the track and into the maze. He spun around and sat up to watch the stone doors move closer to each other until they locked together with a loud thud.

The silence that fell over Breckin scared him. Not a sound penetrated the heavy air. He hastily shoved himself off the ground to his feet. He let out a shout of rage and pain as he slammed his fists against the closed doors. He knew it was pointless, striking at solid stone, but his dark emotions had to be taken out on something.  
Hot, angry tears trailed down his dirty face. He tried to keep them in, but soon he was full-blown sobbing. His forehead rested against the stone. He watched with blurry eyes as his tears fell to the gravel floor. His hands rested at his sides, knuckles bloody from punching the door.

Breckin did not know how long he stood there in his grief and anger. The shadows had deepened and the air had become chilly. He shivered then zipped his jacket. 

A muffled yell pierced the silence. His name. Someone was calling his name from the other side of the doors. 

"Newt!" Breckin just knew it was him. In vain, he slammed his palms against the stone door. "Newt, I'm here!"

"Breckin!"

Breckin opened his mouth to shout again, but something caught his attention. Just at the edge of his hearing... Clicking and scrambling... A low hissing... In an instant, Breckin knew he was not alone in the maze. He turned around to face the corridor. Near the middle was a pathway that went to the left. At the end, it looked the path turned to the right. That was where the sound seemed to be coming from.

His heart pounded loudly in his ears, almost masking the clicking that seemed to be getting closer. Breckin's breathing increased as did his fear. 

Then something metallic appeared from around the corner. It was a long cylinder that ended in what looked like hooked claws. It was a metal leg! Breckin watched, frozen, as another one clicked forward. 

What the shuck...?

The legs were attached to the most disturbing thing Breckin had ever seen. The large body was dark grey-green, and seemed to be excreting some kind of slime. Long spiky hairs stuck out from behind a bulbous face. Beady dark eyes were set above a mouth that seemed to be filled with rows of metal spike-like teeth. Stretchy drool fell in globs to the ground. A jagged spine was visible through the thin skin. At the rear of its hideous body, a long tail made of metal joints swung lazily in the air. Two sets of clasps flared at the tail tip where a long needle glinted in the moonlight. It scuttled on at least six legs around the corner into the corridor. It paused and seemed to sniff the air, though Breckin could not see anything that resembled a nose. 

Was this a... Griever?

With a whirling shriek, the thing charged forward. The claws at the ends of its legs grabbed at the floor and walls, leaving scars on the stone, as it rushed towards him. 

Breckin backed away but instantly hit his back on the stone door. He glanced at the passageway in the middle of the corridor, but there was no way he could make it in time. The monster was getting closer! He whipped his head to the right then the left. There was no where to run. 

Before he could render another thought, Breckin ducked. The creature's tail had swung over its ugly body. He heard the stinger scrape against the stone. He somersaulted under the creature, doing his best not to get caught on the metal sticking out of its legs. The thing's clawed feet made grooves in the path as it turned around in the cramped passage. Breckin jumped to his feet and took off. 

He did not make it far before he was tackled to the ground by ragged claws. Rocks from the path dug into his exposed flesh. The scent of blood filled the air. Breckin heard a whooshing sound and twisted slightly to the side. The stinger struck right where he had been. 

Energy surged through his body. A familiar itch raced across his skin. Breckin sucked in a breath, filling his lungs with the thing's foul stench, and let his monster skin take over. It was harder to do without the full moon shining above him, but somehow, someway, he did it.

He grabbed onto one of the creature's legs that was pinning him down and yanked. The claws scored scars in the stones. Breckin gritted his teeth. There was a metallic whine and a sharp snap! The thing screamed, an unnatural sound that sent a chill down his spine, as Breckin tossed the leg away. Its stinger swung wildly through the air. 

A jolt of pain lanced through Breckin's arm. He felt a fire consume his body for a moment before it vanished. He reached up with the opposite hand and grabbed the stinger. His claws pierced the metal, and a strange liquid splashed onto his fur. He yanked the stinger out of his arm, tossed it away, then pushed himself to his feet in a crouch. With a roar, Breckin launched himself at the thing.

They fought, monster versus monster, for the better part of an hour. The thing was strong, stronger than any of the Gladers, and the multiple legs were very hard to keep in sight. Without its stinger, it had to rely on its claws, which left savage scratches on Breckin's body when they struck. Breckin had to rely on his speed and cunning. He hopped all over the passageway to avoid the flailing limbs and yawning mouth. His claws ripped chunks of slimy flesh.

The fight came to a shuddering halt when Breckin shoved his hand down the creature's throat and ripped out a mess of organs and metal. Something inside it started clicking. Breckin backed away, dropping the goop, as the thing fell to the ground, its remaining legs splayed out all over the passage. Its bizarre stench was tainted with the scent of death from its organic parts. It did not make another sound.

Breckin threw back his head and howled loudly in victory. 

He had won.

Then his howl was cut short by a sneeze. He winced, swiping at the goop at the end of his muzzle. His gaze flitted across his body. Oh, yeah, that shit was all over what remained of his clothes. He whined when he saw that his beloved grey jacket was nothing but shreds. Snarling, he did the only thing he could think of in retaliation: he pissed on the creature's corpse.

Revenge deed done, and monster dead, Breckin felt exhaustion starting to drag at his limbs. The chill in the air started to seep into his cooling muscles. His fur, where it was not held down by the creature's bodily fluids, bristled in an attempt to stay warm. He dropped down against the wall of the passage, curling into himself to conserve body heat. His eyes drooped as he surveyed the dead monster.

Who would make such a thing? Why?

Breckin knew it could not be a real creature. It had to be a chimera created by someone. Maybe the ones who placed them in the Glade? Whatever it was, it put up one hell of a fight. Something about it seemed familiar, but Breckin's mind was becoming too foggy to think.

His muzzle split in a yawn. 

What a shucking day.

\---

Breckin's ear twitched in rhythm to a clicking sound. He grumbled and turned over, curling into a tighter ball. The clicking continued. A few moments later the noise became annoying, and Breckin opened his eyes. At first he could not remember where he was, then the stone walls around him came into focus. Sitting up with a groan and a wince, Breckin blinked in the dusty sunlight. Then his eyes flew open.

The creature... The Griever was gone!

Only a large spatter of green fluid remained where it had been.

Breckin rose to his feet. Clumps of fur fell to the ground as he shivered from the cold. The ripe scent of death filled him nostrils. Whomever had moved the creature's body had done so rather recently. Breckin glanced up and down the corridor, but there were no signs of life. 

The clicking recaptured his attention. It was coming from the gears that were set high up in the wall. A familiar rumble seemed to shake the very ground. Inch by grinding inch, the doors started to open. Breckin limped over to the growing gap. 

"Breckin!"

Minho was standing on the other side of the track, a backpack over his shoulder. He rushed through the gap when it was wide enough and hurried to Breckin's side. "Klunk, man! You survived. You survived!" He threw an arm over Breckin's shoulder to steady him when he started to wobble. "Shuck. Come on, man. Let's get you to Clint and Jeff. What happened?"

Breckin breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned on his friend. "Nick," he muttered, then fell silent when he saw the leader charging across the field with Alby right behind him. Breckin fought back the itch to go into his monster skin. Minho's hand on his shoulder tightened a bit, as if the Runner knew Breckin was close to losing it. 

"Breckin! What the hell?" Nick skidded to a stop in front of them. His blue eyes were twin fires. "You know better than to go into the Maze if you're not a Runner." Breckin fought back a snarl. What the fuck?! "What were you thinking?"

"It wasn't intentional," Breckin growled. "As you would know."

"What are you talking about?" Nick narrowed his eyes. "Why did you go into the Maze, Breckin, knowing you could get into a lot of trouble."

"You put me in there, you son of a bitch." Breckin looked at Alby who was observing the confrontation with an emotionless face. His dark eyes darted between Nick and Breckin. "So don't act like it was my fault." He pointed at Nick. A small tuft of fur was still attached to his finger; Breckin would have laughed at it if the situation at hand was not so intense. "Who's going to tell them, huh, Nick? You or me?" 

Nick only glared harder at him.

Breckin looked up at Alby. "This shucker came into the Slammer last night with at least four other. Put a knife to my throat and threatened to kill me if I didn't do as he said." Breckin dropped his hand but not his glare. "They threw me into the Maze."

"That's ridiculous!" Nick shouted.

"It's the shucking truth, Alby." 

"If this happened, then why didn't you go monster and attack us."

Breckin held Nick's stare with a level gaze. "It's against the rules to hurt another Glader, Nick. Or have you forgotten?"

For a moment Nick stood there with his mouth flapping as he fought for words. Then he abruptly turned away. "Take him to the med-hut. We'll have a meeting in one hour." He marched away. 

The last of his energy seeping away, Breckin sagged against Minho. "Stupid shucker," he growled. 

"Come on, man." Minho pulled him to his feet. "Shuck, Alby, help, man." 

The second-in-command slid Breckin's other arm around his neck. Together, Minho and Alby half-carried, half-dragged him across the field to the med-hut. Breckin's body protested when his bare feet caught on large stones hidden in the tall grass. He whined quietly. Exhaustion and hunger were starting to gnaw at him. After a moment, Breckin realized he had not eaten in over a day and a half. His stomach gave a low gurgle. 

They were inside the med-hut before Breckin knew it. He heard someone curse then he smelled it. That glorious scent of sunshine. Guided by instinct, Breckin pushed away from the Runner and the second-in-command. He stumbled in his haste and almost tripped over a small stool in the pathway. Finally he dropped down next to the cot, resting his chin on the edge. He stared up into the dark eyes of his mate. A hand gripped the shredded shoulder of his jacket and gently yanked. Breckin answered the request by forcefully shoving himself up then sitting on the cot. 

He was immediately enveloped in a warm embrace. He felt hot tears race down his neck and spill over his shoulder. His arms slid around the quivering form, holding Newt as close to him as his muscles would allow. He gently rocked them side to side. 

"You were in the Maze," Newt whispered when he had calmed down several minutes later. 

"Not my choice." 

Newt backed away enough to stare at him. He brought up a hand and gently touched one of the cuts on his cheek. "What happened?"

"Nick. He forced me into the Maze." Breckin glanced over his shoulder when he heard a gasp of shock. Clint and Jeff had paused while gathering medical supplies and were staring at him, listening. He turned back to Newt. "He and a few others."

"Why didn't you go into your monster skin?"

"He said he would kill me if I did." Breckin stared into his mate's dark eyes. "But I survived. I'm here." Again, he hugged Newt close to him, burying his nose in slightly greasy golden hair. 

"If this wasn't a terrifying situation, I'd probably barf from all this lovey-dovey klunk."

Breckin rolled his eyes at his friend. "Shut up, Minho," he grumbled.

A hand on his shoulder shook him slightly. "Breckin, we got to check you over," Clint said in his ear. 

With a sigh, Breckin released Newt and allowed himself to be helped to his sore feet. Clint removed what was left of his jacket, and Breckin actually whined when Clint handed the shredded material to Jeff. His Keeper did a thorough once-over, smearing antibiotic ointment into his small cuts and wrapping the deeper ones. When he reached his arm, Clint paused. Breckin glanced down. There was a hole in his bicep. Dark veins branched out of it. Breckin blinked then looked at his Keeper. Clint's eyes were side with... fear?

"D-Does it hurt?"

Breckin shook his head. "Not any more than the rest."

Clint poked around the wound with a trembling finger. "It doesn't?"

"Are Griever stings supposed to?" He knew George had gone insane after being stung, but no one had told him about the pain. Sure, it hurt like hell when it happened, but the aftermath...? Newt gasped, and Minho leaned closer to get a better look before turning to Alby. Breckin looked down at his partner. The blond's chest was heaving with panicked breaths. Dark eyes stared up at Breckin. 

"You've been stung?"

Breckin nodded. "It doesn't hurt that much." He felt Clint press a bit harder, and hissed quietly as a small flash of pain shot down in his arm. "The hell -"

"It's coming out."

"What?"

"The Griever poison is coming out. Jeff, bowl." Clint carefully lifted Breckin's arm until his bicep was parallel with the floor. Jeff appeared at his side with a shallow bowl in hand. He held it up as Clint squeezed Breckin's arm. Something very dark green reeking of death started to drip into the bowl. "Stand as still as you can, Breckin," Clint advised, fighting back a gag. 

"How does it not hurt?" Jeff asked.

"I don't know. Maybe it has to do with the serum?" Breckin offered. "The smell is killing my nose, though."

"So the creator's pumped you full of klunk that turns you into a furry thing, has you partnered with Newt, and gives you immunity to Griever juice? Why the shuck couldn't they do that to me too?"

"Maybe because you're already full of klunk, Minho?"

"Oh, yeah, that hurt, fluffy-shuck."

Newt's voice broke through their playful argument. "Can't you slintheads take this seriously?"

Breckin looked down at his partner. "Sometimes laughter is needed to deal with klunk, love," he said. 

Newt flushed a bit at the endearment. "What are we going to do about Nick?" he asked, looking past Breckin to Alby. 

"I don't know," Alby answer truthfully.

"You're second in charge. Can't you do anything?"

Alby shook his head. "Nick is above me, and you know as well as I do, Newt, that he does not listen to anyone."

Newt snorted with disbelief. "Some bloody leader he is. He banishes those he does not like. Favors the ones that kiss his arse. He's not fit to run the Glade."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Jeff warned, voice muffled by his arm, which he had brought up to shield his nose from the scent. 

"Like I give a shuck."

"Newt. What's done is done. He threw me out, and I came back. All we can do now is hope he doesn't try to pull this klunk again."

"He probably will," Newt muttered.

"Maybe, but we don't know that," said Clint. Breckin looked at his Keeper, who was still concentrating on the Griever sting. "Breckin, do you remember what happened in there?"

"I fought a Griever, and won." Breckin winced as flashbacks from the fight surged forward. "Thing was freaky as hell. Like a spider but part machine, like some science experiment reject. Smelled like a dead hog left in the sun."

Minho arched a brow. "How did you win?" 

"Ripped out some of its guts through its mouth. It died not long after. Just dropped. But that's not the messed part. It was gone when I woke up."

"Gone?" Alby moved closer. "What do you mean 'gone?'"

Breckin almost shrugged but Clint's glare stopped him. "Like it just vanished. Or someone had taken it away. Nothing was left except a large bloody puddle."

"That's weird," Minho muttered after a moment of silence.

"Yeah," Breckin agreed with a sigh. He looked back down at Newt. "I won't lie: it was shucking terrifying." He forced down a shudder. 

"It's by lucky chance this... whatever you had been given made you immune to Griever juice," Alby muttered, sitting down on the edge of Breckin's cot. "Maybe it's not all bad."

Breckin stared at the second-in-command. "Why the shuck can't Nick think like you?" he asked. 

Alby shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'm not sure. Nick is one of those guys who's afraid of things he can not understand."

"He's an arsehole," Newt muttered, shifting a bit.

"That may be true," Alby conceded, "but he is still the leader of the Glade. His word is practically law." 

Breckin glanced down at his mate. "He's going to get us killed if he keeps us separated." He turned his gaze to Clint, who was now wiping the leftover venom off his arm with a rag. "Did the letter mention how long it would take for me to slip into madness if I were to ever be separated too long from Newt?"

Clint shook his head. "No. I guess the creators never thought something like this would happen; that you and Newt would be near each other always." He nodded to Jeff, who lowered the bowl of goop. "Put that in a bag. We can study it later."

Jeff returned the nod then turned away to do his task. "This klunk reeks," he grumbled. 

"Seal the bag correctly, and you won't smell it," Clint advised, reaching for a roll of gauze. "Hold still, Breckin." He started to wind the cloth around his arm. Breckin have a slight growl at the pressure. Clint paused in his work to bop him on the nose. "Bad."

Newt's snort did not go unnoticed as Breckin gave his Keeper an annoyed look. "Shuck you, Clint," he muttered.

"Nah. That's why you have Newt," Minho piped up from the desk at the end of the beds. He had his feet propped up and arms behind his head. 

Breckin was not the only one to send the Runner an unimpressed look. "Slinthead-ed ass." Breckin sighed quietly. His muscles were starting to ache again. The feeling had been forgotten in the excitement of finding out he was immune to Griever venom, but now... He just wanted to sleep for a month. His shoulders sagged, and he did not protest when Clint and Alby carefully set him down on his cot. Eyelids growing heavy, Breckin muttered a quick thanks before succumbing to sleep.


	20. The Bond

For the fourth time in less than five minutes, Breckin shifted. Every sound - a creak of a tree, the shifting of the walls beyond the Glade - reminded him of last night. It made him jumpy. His eyes darted around the shadowy room before landing on a pair of half-lidded dark brown eyes shining in the moonlight. 

"Can't sleep?"

"Is it that obvious?"

Newt frowned. "You're scared."

"Wouldn't you be, too, if you had been thrown out into a labyrinth by someone you're supposed to trust then forced to fight for your life against a mad machine thing?"

"Yes." Newt sighed quietly. "I thought I would never see you again, Breckin. When Nick said you had gone in the Maze... I thought I had done something wrong. That I had driven you away."

"That could never happen, Newt," Breckin reassured him. 

"I thought you left without saying good-bye."

Breckin blinked. "Newt, you're my partner. My mate. You're stuck with me until you want me gone."

Newt's frown turned up into a small, crooked smile. "I doubt that day will ever come," he said.

"I hope not." Breckin sighed. "I'm glad Nick relented and let me stay in the Glade," he murmured. "I don't know what Alby said to him, but, shuck, I'm glad he did." With a grumble, Breckin rolled over and slid off his cot. He pushed it over with his knees until it was flush against Newt's. He lied back down with a soft sigh. "Hello."  
Newt scooted closer until they were barely a few inches apart. He gently cupped Breckin's cheek. "'Ello."

"Come here often?"

"Every night," Newt said with a snort of laughter. "How's your arm?"

"It doesn't hurt." Breckin turned his head a bit to kiss Newt's palm. "It did when it happened, but not now."

"No one has ever survived a Griever sting before."

"Maybe I'm one of the lucky ones. It sucked, being in the Maze." Breckin scooted the last few inches and gently touched his chapped lips to Newt's. "All I wanted was to get back to you," he whispered against his partner's lips. 

Newt hummed and kissed him. Breckin sighed against his mouth, bringing a bandaged hand up so he could gently thread his fingers in slightly greasy blond locks. Newt murmured something when Breckin gently yanked on the strands. Slowly Breckin backed away from the kiss to place a series of gentle pecks against his mate's neck. Newt mewled quietly. He rested his hands against Breckin's chest. For a moment, Breckin thought the other teen would push him away; instead, Newt wrapped his arms around his torso, blunt nails digging into his bandaged back, and Breckin carefully bit down on the soft patch of skin beneath Newt's ear. 

"Breckin...~" Newt sighed. Breckin smiled slightly then kissed a trail to Newt's neck. "Shuck..."

Breckin hummed against the pale column of flesh. His teeth nipped at the exposed Adam's apple. Newt squeaked then moaned quietly. Slowly moving to the side, Breckin gently sucked on the pulsing vein. Something in his mind wanted him to leave a dark mark on Newt's neck, a beacon for eyes that said Newt was his. Breckin gave into the monster side, and attacked that spot with sucks and licks until Newt was writhing beneath him, moaning his name.

Careful as to not hurt him, Breckin moved onto Newt's cot, lying down between his partner's legs. Newt groaned when he gently lowered his weight onto him. Breckin sighed, shifting his hips and grazing their crotches together.

"Ah..! Br-Breckin!" 

"S'good," Breckin breathed as they grinded against each other. "You're so good, Newt." The blond whined quietly, clinging to his shoulders, burying his face in his neck. Breckin panted in Newt's ear. His right arm slid underneath Newt, holding him close, and his left forearm supported his weight on the pillow. Newt arched his back whenever Breckin gave a harsh thrust, whining against his sweaty flesh. "So beautiful," Breckin breathlessly praised. "Newt, you're - ah! - perfect. S'perfect." 

Newt mewled. "Breckin!"

"Shh," Breckin chided gently. "Don't wake the others." He pushed down harder, swallowing Newt's moan with a hungry kiss. Fingernails dug into his shoulder blades. Sunshine scent wreathed around him. 

"Uhn. Ah! Mhmmm."

He felt Newt's legs lift off the bed to encircle his waist. Breckin tore his mouth from Newt's and brought it close to his partner's ear. 

"Ha.. Ha.. D-Don't stop."

He slowly traced the tip of his tongue over the shell. 

"Bre-Breckin! A-ah!"

Then he whispered, "Howl for me." 

Pale flesh was all he could see as Newt threw his head back, letting out a moan that called to the animal side of his brain. With a deep snarl, Breckin harshly rutted against Newt. He felt the wetness of Newt's release against his clothed cock. Newt panted heavily in his ear, whining and muttering swears as he rode out his high. Breckin felt his resolve snap with one more thrust. A wet stickiness flooded the front of his pants. His heart felt like it was about to explode. His teeth caught in Newt's neck, biting hard. Newt let out a short, quiet scream that ended in a sigh. Breckin felt his torso being tugged down then gently lowered his weight on Newt's smaller body. He panted, resting his cheek against Newt's collarbone. 

Calloused fingertips traced gentle lines up and down his back. "Are you okay?"

Still breathless, Breckin nodded.

"So am I." One of the hands found its way into his sweaty hair. "I love you, Breckin."

Breckin lifted his head from Newt's chest to stare at him. His face was tinged pink. Dark eyes were half-lidded as an aftermath of his powerful orgasm. His blond hair was sweat-spiked. Breckin felt a tug in his heart. The shadowy part of his brain was content. This beautiful blond was his partner, his mate. Breckin wondered how he got so damned lucky. 

Newt grinned a sleepy smile. "Do you think you can rest now?"

Breckin's smile fell as he glanced down at their stomachs. He winced. "Almost."

A few minutes, and a fresh pair of boxers, later, Breckin had his chest pressed against Newt's back. His arm rested gently on a narrow hip, hand outstretched on a flat stomach. He pressed little kisses on the back of his neck. Newt hummed quietly and tugged the sheet tighter around them. 

"I love you."

"Please say it again..."

"I love you, Breckin."

"I love you too." Breckin finally rested his head on the pillow. He sighed through his nose and closed his eyes. "I'll always love you."

Newt murmured something and scooted back a bit more into Breckin's chest. 

A tiny smile tugged on Breckin's lips as he drifted into a peaceful sleep. 

\---

Breckin yawned, stretching his arms over his head. His spine popped in several places. He groaned with appreciation then gave himself a shake. His stomach grumbled quietly. Frypan was probably still dishing out breakfast; Breckin was starving. With one last look at the joined cots near the back of the med-hut, Breckin slipped out into the morning light. He sniffed the air. His partner's scent was leading towards the Homestead; Newt had left earlier to take advantage of the quiet shower hut. The sound of running boots heading toward him caught his attention.

"'Bout time you woke up, lazy ass," the Keeper of the Runners greeted him.

"I had a long night, Minho. Bugger off." He glanced at his friend from the corner of his eye. There was an impish grin on his face. "What?"

"Long night, huh?" Minho's dark eyes twinkled with mischief. "Doesn't have anything to do with the mark on Newt's neck, does it?"

Breckin flashed a sheepish grin. "My bad, bro."

Minho laughed, shaking his head. "So...?" He nudged Breckin a couple times with an elbow. "How was it?"

He felt a blush burn up his neck. "How was what?" he asked, deciding to play dumb.

"Don't act like nothing happened between you two last night." Minho paused at the door to the Homestead. "So...?"

Breckin rolled his eyes. "We didn't have sex-sex, if that's what you're implying." He walked into the Homestead after the Runner. 

"How could you guys even? I mean, we have books about farm animals and the stuff they do. But two guys? There's not even a paragraph about that in anything."

"I'm not sure," Breckin said with a shrug, starting to feel a bit embarrassed. "But I am definitely sure that when it happens, I will not give details. Especially to you."

"Aw. Come on, fluffy."

"Find your own partner and experiment."

"No one here is my type."

Breckin nudged their shoulders together. "What about a tree? Some can be quite... knotty."

Minho's burst of laughter echoed in the building. He slapped Breckin on the back then pushed him through the doorway to the eating room. Quite a few of the other Gladers were already there; more than a handful of them were giving Breckin nervous looks. Breckin ignored them and spotted Newt sitting across from Alby and Winston at the end of a table with a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. Even from where he was standing, Breckin could see the dark bruise near the junction of his neck and shoulder peeking out from under the strap of his burnt orange muscle shirt. 

Frypan greeted them with a warm smile and two plates of steaming eggs and greasy bacon. Breckin gave his thanks and headed over to his partner. He sat down and promptly shoveled a spoonful of eggs into his mouth.

"Did you enjoy your late night snack, Breckin?" Alby questioned as Minho settled on the bench beside him. 

Breckin cocked his head and swallowed his mouthful. "Hm?" With the hate-filled muttering behind him, Breckin had not heard him. "What?"

A small, playful smirk appeared on Alby's usually stern face. "Looks like you tried to eat Newt's shoulder."

Breckin bit his lower lip to hide his smile and huffed through his nose. Beside him, Newt inhaled sharply; there was no doubt in Breckin's mind that his mate's face was bright red. "It was just a sample bite," Breckin said shamelessly.

"And how was this sample?" The corners of Alby's mouth were sucked in as he fought back a laugh.

"Delicious."

There was a smacking sound as Newt buried his face in his palm. When Breckin looked, he saw a brilliant cherry color showing between the long fingers. "Breckin," Newt muttered, sounding absolutely horrified.

"Morning, all!" Alec plopped down on Breckin's other side. "How goes?" 

"How goes?" Breckin returned the greeting.

Alec looked past him to Newt. "You alright, man? Looks like a beastie tried to eat you."

Newt's hand slowly dropped from his red face. "It was a beastie, all right," he muttered, looking at Breckin with narrowed eyes. "A bloody, shucking beastie who will be sleeping in his own shucking cot."

Breckin offered a soft smile, holding up a hand as a sign of peace. "All right. We'll stop." He looked from Newt's eyes to the dark mark on his skin. "I honestly did not mean for it to be that noticeable."

Newt rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Too late now." He picked up his fork. "I'll get my own sample taste later," he muttered before scooping eggs into his mouth.

"I look forward to it." Breckin gave a him a small kiss on the cheek. Newt grumbled something around his mouthful of eggs. Breckin turned away from Newt to see his friends staring at them. He knew why: They were not used to having them openly display their relationship. Breckin shifted a bit under their gazes. Several questions raced through his head:

Were they being too open?

Was it wrong for him to leave a mark on Newt? A visible one?

Were they going to treat Newt badly now?

"Breckin."

He looked at Alby.

"It's okay."

"Hm?"

Alby gestured between Breckin and Newt with his fork. "It's okay."

Breckin gave him a tight-lipped smile and a nod of his head. He felt Newt shift a bit closer, offering comfort. 

"Anyways." Alec cleared his throat. "Now I heard something interesting as I was coming in. Minho. What's this I hear about you having a date?"

The other teens turned their attention to the Keeper of the Runners. "A what?"

Alec caught Breckin's eye, and Breckin saw the glimmer of amusement. He bit back a small chuckle. "Your date," Breckin answered in a calm voice, looking at Minho. "You know, with Annie Oakley, the knotty one."

"You son of a - "

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait." Winston leaned forward, interested. "Who's Annie Oakley?"

"Some broad hanging out in the Deadhead," Breckin replied. "Tall, very tall. Kind of all limbs." He smirked at Minho's reddening face. "I hear her bark is worse than her bite." He took a bite of his bacon, growling suggestively. "Be careful though, bro," he continued after he swallowed. "I heard her attitude can be a bit splinter-y, and that she may want to... lay down roots." He dodged the strip of bacon that was thrown at his head. "Yo, Fry! Minho's wastin' the bacon!"

"That shuckhead better not be wasting it!" Frypan appeared at the counter separating the cooking area from the rest of the room. He held up his hand and pointed his index and middle fingers at the Runner. "I've got my eye on you, Minho."

"Thanks, shucker," Minho grumbled, stabbing an egg yolk with his fork. 

Breckin and Alec exchanged a smirk across Newt, whom was shaking his head in disappointment. "You're welcome."


	21. The Bros

Breckin breathed deeply as he stared up at the cloudless sky. From his position, he could not see the walls, which fed to the illusion of having an open sky above him. For once in the past week Breckin felt at peace.

"Hey, man." Alec appeared in his line of vision. "What's up?"

"Not much." Breckin moved one of his hands out from under his head and patted the dirt beside him. His friend smiled as he settled down in the grass. "Just thinking."

"Mmm. Wanna talk about it?"

"It'd probably bore you."

"Try me."

Breckin fell silent for a moment, unsure of how to tell his friend about his problem. No one in the Glade would understand or have a solution. "It's... um.. It's about Newt and me."

"Ah." Alec glanced at him then returned to looking at the sky. "What about you guys?"

"I want to do something special for Newt."

"The crutches are not enough?"

"Not to me," Breckin said then sighed. "I'm not good at this relationship stuff. At least, not anymore. The creators made it obvious that Newt and I knew each other before we were brought here, so I'm guessing we spent at least some time together. I wish I could remember." He huffed. "I..uh... I want to do something special for him."

Alec hummed. "I don't know, man." He fell quiet for a moment before continuing, "When was the last time you guys spent time together?"

"You mean..."

"I meant just you two with no one else around. Somewhere... not in the med-hut."

Breckin turned onto his side to look at his friend. "You mean like in the Maze? Nick would kill me."

"Not the Maze, you slinthead," Alec replied with a laugh. "I meant like the Deadheads, behind the Homestead or somewhere like that." He turned his head to look at him. "You haven't, have you?"

"No." Breckin rolled once more onto his back. "I can't say I have." He brought a hand up to his face, groaning. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because Nick's been up your ass about everything you say or do. It doesn't leave you with much time to plan alone time with Newt."

"True." Breckin sighed quietly, hand returning to behind his head. 

"Don't overthink it, Breck. Just think of something Newt would appreciate. Has he been wanting something, anything lately?"

Breckin closed his eyes and thought. Then he remembered how he had caught Newt massaging his bad ankle. He had watched as his partner tried to ease the pain. Breckin had not felt that much hopelessness in a long time. 

"His ankle has been killing him lately," Breckin muttered out loud. "Maybe I should, you know - "

"I know what you're saying, man. And I say go for it." 

Breckin smiled, and they fell into a comfortable silence. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax. He could hear Alec's breathing steady out as the Slicer dozed. A sense of calm enveloped him. For a moment he felt as if he were some place different. Behind his eyelids as image flashed in his mind: A room with white walls. A man was standing over him, a man with dark hair wearing a weird white outfit. Suddenly something blue, a strange water, flooded his vision, making the man's image distort. His eyes flew open to stare at the sky. "What the shuck?" he mouthed to himself.


	22. The Touch

"Newt?" Breckin looked around the corner of the Homestead. "Oh, there you are."

The blond was leaning against the side of the building, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed. His crutches were beside him, the ends caked in dirt. He blinked open his dark eyes, and turned his head slightly to look at Breckin. "What?"

He smiled softly at the tired teen. Newt did not like to admit it, but Breckin knew his ankle was giving him problems again. "I have a surprise for you."

"Can you bring it here? My bloody ankle is killing me." For emphasis, Newt carefully massaged his leg, which was crossed over his other, face pinched in a grimace.

"Sorry, love," Breckin apologized. "It's not something I can bring to you." Breckin squatted down beside Newt and gently took the slightly smaller teen in his arms. He heard Newt mutter, "Damned monster strength." as he carefully stood up. Newt slung an arm around his neck. Breckin nuzzled his forehead before walking away from the Homestead. He really hoped Newt liked his surprise; he had been planning it for a week. 

Breckin walked in silence across the Glade. It was past dinner time and every one was starting to wind down from their long days of work. Breckin himself had been busy patching up some of the Builders after one of their scaffolds had finally fallen. Gally had been pissed, to say the least, but he calmed down when he realized he could salvage most of the wood. 

Whispers seemed to fill the air as Breckin carried Newt away. He ignored the looks some of the other Gladers flashed at them; not all of them approved of the relationship between the monster and the injured teen. Many had been vocal about wanting to repeat Nick's actions and throw Breckin back into the maze. Alby and some of the Keepers had shut them up by threatening to give them duties they despised the most. 

"So what's this surprise?"

Breckin hummed then paused to kiss Newt's forehead. "You'll like it. I promise." He continued onwards to the Deadheads. The shade of the trees was comforting after the harsh sunlight. Breckin sighed quietly. "Close your eyes," he whispered.

Newt arched a brow. 

"Humor me."

His partner snorted, but closed his eyes. 

Breckin smiled and marched through the trees to their destination. Once they reached it, Breckin gave the area a once-over to make sure nothing had been tampered with. The blanket was still on the ground, free of any twigs and stones. A crate was beside it, with a lantern and a couple cups of water on top. Another crate was near the first and had a pillow against it. Breckin gently lowered Newt down on the blanket, with his back against the pillow.

"Keep your eyes closed," Breckin requested. He sat down near Newt's legs and carefully lifted them onto his lap. With gentle hands, Breckin started to massage Newt's lame ankle. The skin was puffed from walking and kneeling all day and warm to the touch. Newt murmured something under his breath then sighed, allowing his body to fully rest against the pillow. "How does that feel, love?"

"S'good."

Breckin smiled slightly, watching his partner's face pinch for a moment then relax as his fingertips carefully kneaded the warm flesh. 

"Mm.. Feels good."

A calming silence fell over them as Breckin worked on Newt's sore leg. He hummed a quiet tune to himself until he became aware of dark eyes looking at him. Raising his head, he met the steady gaze. "You okay?"

"I never told you how it happened," Newt said quietly.

"You don't have to," Breckin said with a shake of his head. 

"No, I should." Newt sighed and shifted a bit. "I used to be a Runner," he began.

Breckin nodded, eyes never leaving Newt's face. Minho had told him Newt had been one of the best Runners in the Glade.

"In the beginning there was a lot of chaos. We lost many Gladers, many good guys. They either died trying to find a way out, or they took their own lives." His eyes lost focus for a moment, and Breckin patiently waited for him to return to the present. "I tried so hard to stop them from dying, but it happened no matter what I said or did. I couldn't take it anymore." His dark eyes locked on Breckin.

"You tried..."

"I did," Newt said quietly with a nod. "It was one of my days to run the Maze. Enough had been enough." Newt looked off into the trees. "I climbed one of walls and jumped."

Breckin stared at Newt. "Then how did -"

"I survive? My leg was caught in the vines." Newt sighed. "Snapped my ankle. And now I'm stuck with a shucking limp until I die."

"But at least you're alive," Breckin suggested quietly. 

Newt nodded. "Yeah." He fell silent again. 

Breckin returned to gently rubbing Newt's ankle. It took him by surprise that Newt had tried to kill himself; the accented blond seemed so strong, so determined to live. "I wish I had been brought up sooner," he muttered. "I would have helped you get through that klunk."

"Hm." Newt opened his dark eyes. "You're here now, Breck." 

"Do you still feel hopeless?"

"Don't you? We're stuck in this shuckin' maze with no known way out." 

"I don't feel hopeless," Breckin murmured with a shake of his head. "One of these days we'll get out. You'll see."

Newt smiled slightly. "Your optimism is showing."

"There's always a silver lining, Newt. It's up to us to find it." Breckin paused his hands to lean in closer. "Just like how we found each other."

Newt snorted and playfully shoved Breckin away. "Stop being a sap."

"Would you have me any other way?"

Newt didn't reply. He just smiled and leaned back against the pillow again. 

Breckin's hands resumed their movements; Newt sighed, relaxing as Breckin worked the soreness out of his leg. Gradually, almost without his consent, his hand worked its way up Newt's shin to gently rub again his knee. Newt mumbled something. Breckin paused for a moment then his hand started to slowly move further up Newt's leg. With nimble fingers, he massaged his thigh. Newt's breath caught in his throat as Breckin gently swiped his thumb over the crotch of his pants. 

A hum came from his partner. 

Breckin took that as the go-ahead.

Slowly to not spook Newt, Breckin scooted a little closer until his legs were under Newt's knees. With one hand resting on his partner's legs to keep him steady, Breckin used the other to unbutton then unzip Newt's beige cargo pants. He was not surprised to feel the hardness under his palm. Newt hissed when Breckin carefully withdrew his erect cock from the tightness of his jeans. Breckin hummed quietly; he already knew Newt was a tad bit smaller than himself, and that was okay. Watching Newt to gauge his reaction, Breckin curled his callused fingers around his partner's hardened flesh. 

Newt sucked in a sharp breath, teeth biting into his lower lip. His eyes slammed closed, and he tilted his head back as Breckin gently stroked him. A low moan slipped out when Breckin swiped his thumb over the puffy glans. A sticky string of precum caught on his flesh and stretched for a moment before snapping. Breckin licked his lips. He looked up at Newt again, almost groaning as he was met with dark, half-hooded eyes. 

He did not know what compelled his to do it, but he asked, "Does it feel good, Newt?" He gently squeezed the pale shaft and did not wait for an answer. "Does my hand feel good on your cock?" 

Newt muttered something that was cut off by a moan. His hips rose off the blanket a bit to get more friction. When Breckin gave a particularly hard stroke, Newt's mouth fell open with a silent curse.

Breckin smiled impishly as his partner's cock twitched in his hand. Slowly, he lowered himself onto his side. Newt actually whined when Breckin let go so he could prop himself up with his arm. His other hand quickly resumed where the other left off. Glancing at Newt to make sure his eyes were still closed, Breckin slowly brought his mouth to the glistened head.

"Oh! Oh, shuck!" Newt bucked his hips, and Breckin fought back a gag when the blunt head touched the back of his throat. He hummed a warning, but Newt only moaned and lifted his hips again. A hand threaded itself in his hair. "A little... uh!... less teeth." Breckin opened his mouth a bit more and covered his sharp upper teeth with his lip. Newt murmured appreciation then sighed loudly as Breckin hollowed his cheeks. "Bre-eckin..."

He hummed again, tonguing the slit, tasting the salty mixture that came from it. Being careful not to nick his partner with his teeth, Breckin worked his mouth up and down the hot shaft. Newt wriggled a bit, and Breckin helped him slide his pants a bit further down his thighs. His sac was revealed, and Breckin gently cupped it. Newt sucked in a sharp breath as he gently rolled them in his hand. 

"F-Faster, Breck."

Breckin complied, though his cheeks and jaw were starting to ache. He pushed past the slight pain. Humming quietly, he gave Newt's sac a slight squeeze, which made the blond release a huffy moan. 

"Oh! Oh, Breckin! Do-Don't bloody stop." Newt's hand tightened in his hair. Breckin moaned, finding something erotic in the hair-pulling. "Ah! Shuck! I - I! Uh! B-Breck!" Newt's cock seemed to inflate in his mouth, the head growing rigid under his tongue. "Bre-! Breckin! I'm! I'm - Ah!" Newt's body seemed to seize up, hand almost too tight in his hair, before he shuddered. 

Hot, salty liquid shot onto Breckin's tongue. Musty, but not completely unpleasant. He swallowed. Newt trembled. Breckin carefully licked up any of the liquid that had escaped his mouth. Breckin sat up, swiping his tongue over his lips a few times. Newt stared at him with misty eyes. "You good?"

Newt hummed an affirmative. Then his eyes dropped to Breckin's lap. "What about you?"

Breckin had been aware of the throbbing in his jeans for a while now. It pressed painfully against the denim fabric. Breckin smiled at his starry-eyed lover. "I'll be alright."

Newt glanced down; he looked almost shy. "You could take care of it."

"What?"

"I wa... to ...tch."

"...What?"

"I want to watch you." Newt gestured towards the bump in his jeans. 

"Oh." Breckin stared into his partner's dark eyes. "Are you dure?"

Newt nodded.

Body aching for release, Breckin quickly undid his jeans. He glanced at Newt; he was watching with fascination. Breckin sighed and withdrew his cock from the confines of his pants. He hissed as the air touched his heated flesh. Not wasting time, he fisted his cock and stroked himself. He squeezed on every other upward movement, swiping his thumb over the engorged head. A low moan of Newt's name escaped his parted lips. 

"Do you do this often?"

Breckin forced his eyes to open and focus on Newt. The blond was watching him through half-lidded eyes. Pale lips, still puffy from being bitten, were curved into a smile.

"Do you touch yourself often?" Newt asked in a husky tone. Breckin murmured a nonsense reply. "Do you think of me when you do?"

Breckin hissed. "Yesss." He increased the pace of his strokes, chest heaving as he panted. 

"Yes what?"

"I - ah! - think of you... wh-when I touch myself," Breckin confessed. 

Newt's smile grew a bit. "How hard do you cum - " Breckin groaned. " - when you think of me?"

"Shu - So so hard." Breckin squeezed just under the glistening head of his cock. A strangled moan caught in his throat. "Shuck, Newt!" he growled. He felt his canines start to extend and tasted blood when they nicked his lower lip. 

"I want you to cum," Newt requested. Breckin felt the warmth through his jeans when Newt rested his hand on his thigh. "Cum for me, love."

Breckin bit deep into his bottom lip to stifle his moans. His sac drew close to his body. His cock began to spasm, then relief washed over his entire being. Warm liquid drooled down his cock, over his hand and onto his jeans. He gave a few more strokes to ease himself through his orgasm. Releasing his wrecked bottom lip, he sighed heavily, just barely catching himself as he started to lean backwards.

"That was the hottest thing I have ever seen." He opened his eyes and looked at his partner. Newt's eyes were still misty, and his smile had softened. 

"Didn't know you could talk dirty," Breckin commented when he caught his breath enough to speak.

A blush painted Newt's cheeks. "You do it whenever we mess around, and... I kind of... imagine you talking that way to me when I jerk off."

"Such a bad boy, jerking off to such inappropriate thoughts," Breckin jested with a soft smirk. He grabbed a corner of the blanket and cleaned himself before carefully tucking his spent cock back into his jeans. "I totally did not mean for any of that to happen," he said, suddenly feeling a bit bashful. 

"I'm glad it did."

They shared a smile. 

"I love you, Newt."

Newt leaned forward and softly kissed him. "I love you, too, Breck." He leaned back against the stump again. "I'm glad you're here."

Breckin felt his heart jump to his throat. "So am I, love. So am I."


End file.
